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DUKE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
DURHAM,  N.  C. 


RPr’H'nr>(A.  vc,  iq 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


https://archive.org/details/lifeindixiedurin01gaym_0 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 

< t 

DURING  THE  WAR. 


\ 86  M 862-1 863-1 864-  \ 865. 


MARY  A.  H.  GAY. 


c. 

THE  FOURTH  EDITION  {ENLARGED). 

90  a 63 


ATLANTA,  GA.: 
FOOTE  & DAVIES  COMPANY 
1901. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1897, 
By  Mart  A.  H.  Gay, 

in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


4 /tl 

9--  . 


9-. 

lW 


/8u>. 


fn.  7*2 

CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS 9 

Chapter  I. — The  Magnolia  Cadets  17 

Chapter  II. — The  War  Record  of  DeKalb  County 22 

Chapter  III. — Labors  of  Love — Musical — Decatur  36 

Chapter  IV. — Labors  of  Love — Knitting  and  Sewing,  and 

Writing  Letters  to  “Our  Soldiers”  42 

Chapter  V. — The  Third  Maryland  Artillery — Some  Old 

Songs  48 

Chapter  VI. — A Daring  and  Unique  Chase — The  Capture 
and  Re-capture  of  the  Railroad  Engine,  “The  General”  52 
Chapter  VII. — Coming  Home  from  Camp  Chase — The 


Faithful  Servant’s  Gift — A Glimpse  of  Confederate 

Braves  58 

Chapter  VIII. — Some  Social  Features — Morgan’s  Men 
Rendezvous  at  Decatur — Waddell’s  Artillery — Visits 

from  the  Texans — Surgeon  Haynie  and  His  Song 72 

Chapter  IX. — Thomie’s  Second  Home  Coming — He  Leaves 
for  the  Front — His  Christian  Labors  in  Camp — He 
Describes  the  Battle  of  New  Hope  Church — The  Great 

Revival  in  Johnston’s  Army  77 

Chapter  X. — A Visit  to  Dalton — The  Fidelity  of  an  Old-time 

Slave 94 

Chapter  XI. — A Perilous  Trust  104 

Chapter  XII. — A Scene  in  an  Atlanta  Confederate  Hos- 
pital   108 

Chapter  XIII. — Concealing  Confederate  Clothing — Valu- 
ables Carried  to  Atlanta — Toby  Taken  111  113 

Chapter  XIV. — The  Advance  Guard  of  the  Yankee  Army — 

I am  Ordered  Out — A Noble  Federal 124 

Chapter  XV. — The  Battle  of  the  22d  of  July,  1864 — The 

Death  of  Toby  135 

Chapter  XVI. — Everett’s  Desertion  146 

Chapter  XVII. — A Visit  to  Confederate  Lines — A Nar- 
row Escape — My  Return — The  Fall  of  Atlanta  15G 

Chapter  XVIII. — The  Ten  Day’s  Armistice — Going  Out  with 
the  Confederate  Clothes — Scenes  at  Atlanta,  and  at  Love- 
joy’s  Station — The  Visit  to  Granburv’s  Brigade — The 
Last  Interview  with  Thomie  168 


Chapter  XIX. — The  Return  Home — From  Jonesboro  via  Au- 
gusta— Scenes  and  Incidents  by  the  Way — The  Lonely 

Journey  from  Stone  Mountain  to  Decatur 195 

Chapter  XX. — On  the  Verge  of  Starvation — A Worn-out 
Army  Horse  is  Found — Uncle  Mack  Makes  a Wagon — 

I Make  a Unique  Trip — Starvation  is  Warded  Off — 

Dangers  and  Scenes  by  the  Way 207 

Chapter  XXI. — A Second  Trip  for  Supplies — Gathering 
“Fodder”  from  a Cane-brake,  as  a Preliminary — The 
Lonely  Journey — Changing  Yankee’s  Name — I Meet  the 
Federal  Raiders  226 


Chapter  XXII. — News  from  the  Absent  Brother — He 
Marches  into  Tennessee  with  Hood — Extracts  from  His 
Letters  written  on  the  Way — Two  Ears  of  Parched  Corn — 

The  Night  Burial  of  a Soldier  243 

Chapter  XXIII. — An  Incident  of  the  War — Related  to  the 

Writer  by  Hon.  Roger  Q.  Mills,  of  Texas  251 

Chapter  XXIV. — Picking  up  Minie  Balls  Around  Atlanta — 

Exchanging  Them  for  Bread  255 

Chapter  XXV. — The  Decatur  Women’s  Struggle  for  Bread — 
Sweet  Singing  in  Hard  Places — Pleasant  Visitors — I 
Make  a Trip  to  Alabama — The  News  of  My  Brother’s 

Death  260 

Chapter  XXVI. — My  Mother’s  Death — Rev.  John  S.  Wilson 

Performs  the  Funeral  Service  274 

Chapter  XXVII. — A Reminiscence  281 

Chapter  XXVIII. — How  the  Decatur  Women  Kept  Up  the 

Sabbath  School  280 

Chapter  XXIX. — Postal  Affairs — The  Postmaster,  Hiram 
J.  Williams — A Life  that  was  a Reality,  but  Reads  like 

a Romance  298 

Chapter  XXX. — The  Tragic  Death  of  Sallie  Durham — A 1 

Sketch  of  the  Durham  Family  302 

Chapter  XXXI. — The  Death  of  Melville  Clark 310 


Chapter  XXXII. — The  Morton  Family — Incidents  Thrill- 


ing and  Affecting  313 

Chapter  XXXIII. — Hon.  Joseph  E.  Brown’s  Pikes  and 
Guns  319 


Chapter  XXXIV. — The  Pursuit  and  Capture  of  the 


Andrews  Raiders  325 

Confederate  Love  Song  349 

Conclusion  351 

Appendix  354 


i 


INTRODUCTION. 


I am  asked  to  write  a few  words  of  introduction  to 
these  reminiscences  of  a lady  who,  in  the  pleasant 
afternoon  of  a life  devoted  to  deeds  of  mercy  and  char- 
ity, turns  fondly  and  sympathetically  to  the  past.  But 
there  is  nothing  to  be  said.  What  word  of  mine  could 
add  to  the  interest  that  inheres  in  this  unpretentious 
record  of  a troubled  and  bloody  period?  The  chroni- 
cle speaks  for  itself,  especially  to  those  who  remember 
something  of  those  wonderful  days  of  war.  It  has 
the  charm  and  the  distinction  of  absolute  verity,  a 
quality  for  which  we  may  look  in  vain  in  more  elabor- 
ate and  ambitious  publications.  Here  indeed,  is  one 
of  the  sources  from  which  history  must  get  its  sup- 
P lies,  and  it  is  informed  with  a simplicity  which  history 
c an  never  hope  to  attain. 

We  have  here  reproduced  in  these  records,  with  a 
f faithfulness  that  is  amazing,  the  spirit  of  those  dark 
c lays  that  are  no  more.  Tragedy  shakes  hands  with 
''what  seems  to  be  trivial,  and  the  commonplaces  of 
e very-day  life  seem  to  move  forward  with  the  gray 
b attalions  that  went  forth  to  war. 

It  is  a gentle,  a faithful  and  a tender  hand  that 
Smides  the  pen — a soul  nerved  to  sacrifice  that  tells 
^he  tale.  For  the  rest,  let  the  records  speak  for  them- 
selves. 


Joel  Chandler  Harris. 


PREFACE. 


By  way  of  preface  to  “Life  in  Dixie  During  the 
War,”  I scarcely  know  what  to  say.  I have  long  felt 
that  it  was  the  duty  of  the  South  to  bequeath  to  pos- 
terity the  traditions  of  that  period ; for  if  we  do  it  not 
ourselves  they  will  be  swallowed  up  in  oblivion. 
Entertaining  this  opinion,  I have  essayed  the  task  of 
an  individual  effort,  and  hope  that  others  may  follow 
my  example. 

No  woman  who  has  seen  what  I have  seen,  and 
felt  what  I have  felt,  would  be  apt  to  write  with  less 
asperity;  and  yet,  now  that  we  have  come  back  to  the 
United  States,  and  mean  to  stay  in  it,  let  the  provoca- 
tion to  depart  be  what  it  may,  I would  not  put  into 
practice  an  iota  of  the  war-time  feeling.  In  thus 
expressing  myself,  I am  sure  I represent  every  Chris- 
tian in  my  own  beautiful  Southland. 

There  was  one  for  whom  these  sketches  would 
have  had  a special  interest.  An  inspiring  motive  for 
writing  them  was  that  they  would  be  read  by  my 
nephew,  Thomas  H.  Stokes,  of  Atlanta,  the  only  child 
of  the  brother  so  often  mentioned.  But,  ere  he  had 
had  more  than  a glimpse  of  them,  he  was  called  away 
by  an  Inscrutable  Providence,  in  his  pure  and  beau- 
tiful young  manhood,  as  we  trust  to  a Land  of  Peace 
more  in  keeping  with  his  noble,  true,  and  tender  heart, 
than  earth  with  its  sin  and  strife.  “Blessed  are  the 
pure  in  heart ; for  they  shall  see  God.” 

Mary  A.  H.  Gay. 

Decatur,  Georgia. 


/ 


I 


INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS. 


THE  TOCSIN  OF  WAR. 

The  tocsin  of  war  has  resounded  from  Mason  and 
Dixon’s  line  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  from  the  snow- 
crested  billows  of  the  Atlantic  to  the  tranquil  waves 
of  the  Pacific. 

War!  War ! War ! is  the  battle  cry  of  a people, 
who,  long  suffering  and  patient,  but  now,  goaded  to 
desperation  and  thoroughly  exasperated,  are  deter- 
mined, at  all  hazards,  to  protect  the  rights  for  which 
their  forefathers  fought,  bled  and  died ; and  which 
their  own  Thomas  Jefferson  embodied  in  an  instrument 
of  writing  which,  for  beauty  of  diction  and  wisdom  of 
thought,  will  go  sounding  down  the  corridors  of  time, 
so  long  as  time  itself  shall  last — unequaled,  unpara- 
lellei;  and  which  was  adopted  without  a dissenting 
voice  by  the  ablest  convocation  of  men  ever  assembled 
in  national  councils  as  their  declaration  of  human 
rights  and  liberties. 

Thus,  under  auspices  favorable  to  the  happy  and 
speedy  development  of  a new  and  glorious  country, 
commenced  the  government  of  the  freest  and  happiest 
people  on  earth,  under  the  administration  of  George 
Washington — an  administration  which  caught  the  eye 
of  the  world  and  called  forth  its  admiration ; and 
which  the  most  censorious  never  had  the  temerity  to 
attack ; an  administration  which  secured  for  the 
country  the  alluring  title,  “The  land  of  the  free  and 


10 


INTRODUCTION. 


the  home  of  the  brave.”  And  its  fame  went  abroad 
in  story  and  in  song,  and  every  nation  on  earth  sought 
its  blessings  and  advantages,  and  it  grew  to  be  a 
mighty  country. 

Coeval  with  the  settlement  of  this  beautiful  conti- 
nent by  the  white  man,  there  came,  or  rather,  there 
was  brought,  a race  of  people  which  needed  the  fos- 
tering care  as  well  as  the  strong  arm  of  slavery  to 
kindle  the  latent  spark  of  intellectual  fire  which  had 
smoldered  for  centuries,  in,  as  President  Cleveland 
would  say,  “innocuous  desuetude.” 

This  race  of  people  came  not  as  pioneers  in  the 
building  up  of  this  great  nation,  but  as  a menial  race, 
sold  into  bondage  by  their  own  kith  and  kin,  and  not 
to  be  endowed  with  elective  franchise  nor  representa- 
tion in  its  councils.  It  was  held  in  bondage  alike  in 
Massachusetts  and  in  South  Carolina.  Under  the 
auspices  of  slavery,  it  became  a powerful  factor  in  the 
building  up  of  the  staple  industries  of  the  country — 
the  Southern  portion  of  it  directly,  the  Northern  por- 
tion indirectly,  and  it  received  in  return  more  than  any 
other  people  in  bondage  has  ever  received — as  a usual 
thing,  good  wholesome  food,  comfortable  homes  and 
raiment,  and  tender  treatment  in  sickness.  When 
they  failed  to  receive  these  benefits,  their  masters 
were  improvident  and  careless  alike  of  the  comfort  of 
their  own  wives  and  children,  and  they,  too,  showed 
hard  usage  and  neglect.  This  is  not  said  by  way  of 
apology  for  any  treatment  received  at  the  hands  of 
Southern  slaveholders  by  this  vassal  race.  I repeat 
that  no  people  held  in  bondage  ever  received  so  many 
benefits. 


INTRODUCTION. 


11 


Slavery,  as  all  other  institutions,  had  its  evils,  and 
those  evils  were  far  greater  to  the  slaveholder  than 
to  the  slaves.  Climatic  and  other  considerations  ren- 
dered the  system  of  slavery  unprofitable  in  the  North- 
ern States  of  this  great  and  growing  republic,  and  the 
men  at  the  helm  of  their  respective  governments  agi- 
tated the  subject  of  emancipation. 

Having  given  themselves  time  to  bring  the  greater 
number  of  their  slaves  South  and  sell  them,  they  nom- 
inally freed  the  others  by  legislative  enactment;  and 
by  this  great  and  magnanimous  action,  there  were  so 
few  left  that  to  this  day,  as  attested  by  Northern 
tourists,  a “darkey,”  or  a “colored  person,”  is  an  ob- 
ject of  curiosity  and  great  interest. 

The  country,  North  and  South,  was  too  prosper- 
ous. The  agitators  could  stand  it  no  longer.  Discord 
and  strife  took  the  place  of  harmony  and  peace  in  the 
halls  of  congress,  and  in  the  senate  chamber  of  tfie 
United  States.  Men  who  could  in  no  other  way  ac- 
quire prominence,  became  -conspicuous  as  champions 
of  an  “oppressed  and  down-trodden  race,”  and  were 
swift  to  slander  the  white  people  of  the  South.  Our 
slaves  were  taught  that  murder,  rapine,  arson,  and 
every  species  of  wickedness  known  in  the  catalogue  of 
crime  which,  in  any  way,  could  weaken,  yea,  destroy 
the  South,  was  service  most  acceptable. 

The  country  was  in  the  clutches  of  an  organized 
mob,  determined  to  precipitate  it  into  the  jaws  of  dis- 
solution. By  way  of  confirming  this  statement  the 
following  resolutions  are  reproduced. 

These  resolutions  were  adopted  by  a large  and  rep- 
resentative body  of  men  at  Worcester,  Massachusetts, 


12 


INTRODUCTION. 


soon  after  Fremont’s  defeat  in  1856,  and  long  before 
Governor  Gist  of  South  Carolina,  and  other  Southern 
leaders,  began  to  take  measures  for  a peaceable  sepa- 
ration, rather  than  to  be  forcibly  expelled : 

“ Resolved , That  the  meeting  of  a state  disunion 
convention,  attended  by  men  of  various  parties  and 
affinities,  gives  occasion  for  a new  statement  of  prin- 
ciples and  a new  platform  of  action. 

“Resolved,  That  the  conflict  between  this  principle 
of  liberty  and  this  fact  of  slavery  has  been  the  whole 
history  of  the  nation  for  fifty  years,  while  the  only  re- 
sult of  this  conflict  has  thus  far  been  to  strengthen 
both  parties,  and  prepare  the  way  of  a yet  more  des- 
perate struggle. 

“Resolved,  That  in  this  emergency  we  can  expect 
little  or  nothing  from  the  South  itself,  because  it,  too, 
is  sinking  deeper  into  barbarism  every  year.  Nor 
from  a supreme  court  which  is  always  ready  to  invent 
new  securities  for  slaveholders.  Nor  from  a president 
elected  almost  solely  by  Southern  votes.  Nor  from  a 
senate  which  is  permanently  controlled  by  the  slave 
power.  Nor  from  a house  of  representatives  which, 
in  spite  of  our  agitation,  will  be  more  proslavery  than 
the  present  one,  though  the  present  one  has  at  length 
granted  all  which  slavery  asked.  Nor  from  political 
action  as  now  conducted.  For  the  Republican  leaders 
and  press  freely  admitted,  in  public  and  private,  that 
the  election  of  Fremont  was,  politically  speaking,  the 
last  hope  of  freedom,  and  even  could  the  North  cast  a 
united  vote  in  i860,  the  South  has  before  it  four  years 
of  annexation  previous  to  that  time. 

“Resolved,  That  the  fundamental  difference  be- 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


tween  mere  political  agitation  and  the  action  we  pro- 
pose is  this,  it  requires  the  acquiescence  of  the  slave 
power,  and  the  other  only  its  opposite. 

“ Resolved , That  the  necessity  for  disunion  is  writ- 
ten in  the  whole  existing  character  and  condition  of 
the  two  sections  of  the  country — in  social  organiza- 
tions, education,  habits  and  laws — in  the  dangers  of 
our  white  citizens  of  Kansas  and  our  colored  ones 
in  Boston,  in  the  wounds  of  Charles  Sumner  and  the 
laurels  of  his  assailant — and  no  government  on  earth 
was  ever  strong  enough  to  hold  together  such  oppos- 
ing forces. 

“ Resolved , That  this  movement  does  not  seek 
merely  disunion,  but  the  more  perfect  union  of  the 
free  States  by  the  expulsion  of  the  slave  States  from 
the  confederation  in  which  they  have  ever  been'  an 
element  of  discord,  danger  and  disgrace. 

“Resolved,  That  it  is  not  probable  that  the  ulti- 
mate severance  of  the  union  will  be  an  action  of  de- 
liberation or  discussion,  but  that  a long  period  of 
deliberation  and  discussion  must  precede  it,  and  this 
we  meet  to  begin. 

“Resolved,  That  henceforward,  instead  of  regard- 
ing it  as  an  objection  to  any  system  of  policy  that  will 
lead  to  the  separation  of  the  States,  we  will  proclaim 
that  to  be  the  highest  of  all  recommendations  and  the 
grateful  proof  of  statemanship ; and  we  will  support, 
politically  and  otherwise,  such  men  and  measures  as 
appear  to  tend  most  to  this  result. 

“Resolved,  That  by  the  repeated  confession  of 
Northern  and  Southern  statesmen,  the  existence  of 
the  union  is  the  chief  guarantee  of  slavery,  and  that 


14 


INTRODUCTION. 


the  despots  of  the  whole  world  and  the  slaves  of  the 
whole  world  have  everything  to  hope  from  its  de- 
struction and  the  rise  of  a free  Northern  republic. 

“Resolved,  That  the  sooner  the  separation  takes 
place,  the  more  peaceable  it  will  be;  but  that  peace  or 
war  is  a mere  secondary  consideration  in  view  of  our 
present  perils.  Slavery  must  be  conquered;  peaceably 
if  we  can,  forcibly  if  we  must.” 

To  keep  before  the  people  of  the  United  States, 
North  and  South,  the  hostility  of  the  then  controlling 
spirit  of  the  North  towards  the  South,  the  above 
resolutions  can  not  be  repeated  too  often.  Nor  were 
they  an  isolated  example  of  party  fanaticism.  The 
stock  and  staple  of  the  entire  republican  press  was 
slander  of  the  Southern  people ; and  like  noxious 
weeds  it  well-nigh  rooted  out  all  that  was  elevating  to 
man,  and  ennobling  to  woman.  The  pulpit  became  a 
rostrum  from  which  bitter  invective  of  the  South 
flowed  in  Niagaran  torrents ; and  the  beautiful  fields 
of  Poesy  were  made  to  yield  an  abundant  crop  of 
briar  and  bramble  and  deadly  Upas. 

The  burden  of  every  song,  of  every  prayer,  of 
every  sermon,  was  the  “poor  down-trodden  slave”  of 
the  South.  What  wonder  that  seed  thus  constantly 
and  malignantly  sown  sprang  up  and  bore  a crop  of 
discontent  which  nothing  short  of  “separation”  from 
the  enemy  could  appease!  We,  too,  felt  that  under  the 
existing  circumstances  peace  or  war  was  a mere 
secondary  consideration  in  view  of  our  perils  in  the 
union,  and  took  measures  to  withdraw  from  a sectional 
union  of  States  that  had  ceased  to  respect  State 
sovereignty  outside  of  its  own  borders. 


INTRODUCTION. 


15 


The  insults  and  taunts  and  the  encroachments  of 
fifty  years  had  welded  the  people  of  the  South  into  a 
compact  party  organization,  animated  for  all  substan- 
tial purposes  by  one  sentiment  and  one  glorious  prin- 
ciple of  patriotism,  and  never  was  there  a movement 
in  the  annals  of  nations  that  had  a more  unanimous 
support.  And  when  the  tocsin  of  war  resounded  from 
one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other,  and  reverberated 
over  hills  and  through  valleys,  the  sons  and  sires  in 
the  beautiful  Sunny  South,  from  the  high-born  and 
cultured  gentleman  in  whose  veins  flowed  the  blue 
blood  of  the  cavalier,  to  the  humblest  tiller  of  the  soil 
and  the  shepherd  on  the  mountain  sides,  buckled  on 
the  paraphernalia  of  warfare  and  reported  for  duty.  To 
arms!  To  arms!  was  the  patriotic  appeal  of  a people 
who  had  no  other  redress ; and  I repeat  with  emphasis 
that  never  a people  responded  with  more  chivalrous 
alacrity  or  more  earnestness  of  purpose. 

I was  too  well  versed  in  the  politics  of  the  country, 
too  familiar  with  the  underground  workings  of  the 
enemy,  to  hesitate.  I,  too,  enlisted  in  the  struggle, 
and  in  the  glorious  effort  to  establish  “home  rule 
and  domestic  felicity,”  not  literally  in  the  ranks  of  the 
soldier,  but  in  the  great  army  of  women  who  were 
willing  to  toil  and  to  suffer,  and  to  die,  if  need  be,  for 
the  cause  of  the  South. 

I had  but  one  brother,  a darling  young  half-brother, 
Thomas  J.  Stokes,  who  had  gone  to  Texas  to  practice 
his  chosen  profession.  With  all  the  intensity  of  my 
ardent  nature  I loved  this  brother,  and  would  have 
died  that  he  might  live ; and  yet  with  all  the  perils 
involved,  it  was  with  a thrill  of  pride  that  I read  his 


16 


INTRODUCTION. 


long  letter  breathing,  pulsing,  with  the  patriotism 
illustrated  by  our  ancestry  in  the  revolutionary  strug- 
gle for  American  Independence.  And  now  this  noble 
brother  and  myself,  though  widely  separated,  enlisted 
in  aid  of  the  same  great  cause ; the  perpetuity  of  con- 
stitutional rights.  He  to  serve  on  the  battle-field,  and 
I to  care  for  the  sick  and  wounded  soldiers,  or  to  labor 
in  any  capacity  that  would  give  greatest  encourage- 
ment to  our  cause. 


Life  in  Dixie  During  the  War 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  MAGNOLIA  CADETS. 

Notwithstanding  the  restful  signification  of  “Ala- 
bama/’ the  State  bearing  that  name  had  passed  the 
ordinance  of  secession,  and  mingled  her  voice  with 
those  of  other  States  which  had  previously  taken  steps 
in  that  direction. 

Then  followed  a call  for  a convention,  having  in 
view  the  election  of  a President  of  a new  Republic  to 
take  its  place  among  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  to 
be  known  throughout  the  world  as  the  Southern 
Confederacy.  As  an  intensely  interested  spectator  I 
was  at  that  convention ; and  will  remember,  to  my 
dying  day,  that  grand  spectacle.  Yea,  that  was  a 
grand  and  solemn  occasion — that  of  issuing  a mandate 
“Let  there  be  another  nation,  and  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  there  was  another  nation.”  In  the  course  of 
human  events  it  requires  centuries  to  evolve  such  moral 
courage  and  sublimity  of  thought  and  action ; and 
the  proceedings  of  that  day  will  stand  out  in  bold 
relief  as  the  acme  of  patriotic  greatness. 

Ah ! that  scene  at  the  capitol  of  the  State  of  Ala- 
bama, when  Jefferson  Davis,  the  chosen  leader  of  the 


18 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Southern  people,  took  the  oath  of  office  and  pledged 
undying  fidelity  to  the  best  interests  of  his  own  sunny 
land. 

On  that  momentous  occasion  not  a word  was  uttered 
denunciatory  of  the  States  we  were  seeking  to  leave 
in  their  fancied  superiority,  and  the  great  concourse 
of  people  there  assembled  was  too  familiar  with  the 
history  of  the  times  to  require  recapitulation  of  the 
causes  of  the  alienation  which  led  by  rapid  ascent  to 
the-  summit  of  discontent,  and  determination  to  no 
longer  submit  to  the  domination  of  an  enemy. 

That  scene  being  enacted  as  a preliminary,  a call 
was  made  for  Alabama’s  quota  of  volunteers  to  defend 
the  principles  enunciated  and  the  interests  involved. 

The  Magnolia  Cadets,  under  the  leadership  of  Cap- 
tain N.  H.  R.  Dawson,  of  Selma,  were  among  the  first 
to  respond.  I accompanied  my  cousins  of  Alabama 
to  see  this  company  of  noble,  handsome  young  men 
mustered  into  the  military  service  of  their  country. 
It  was  a beautiful  sight!  Wealthy,  cultured  young 
gentlemen  voluntarily  turning  their  backs  upon  the 
luxuries  and  endearments  of  affluent  homes,  and  ac- 
cepting in  lieu  the  privations  and  hardships  of  war- 
fare ; thereby  illustrating  to  the  world  that  the  conflict 
of  arms  consequent  upon  the  secession  was  not  to  be 
“a  rich  man’s  war  and  a poor  man’s  fight.” 

I saw  them  as  they  stood  in  line  to  receive  the  ele- 
gant silken  banner,  bearing  the  stars  and  bars  of  a 
new  nation,  made  and  presented  to  them  by  Miss 
Todd  and  her  sister,  Mrs.  White,  of  Lexington, 
Kentucky,  who  were  introduced  to  the  audience  by 
Captain  Dawson  as  the  sisters  of  Mrs.  Abraham 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


19 


Lincoln,  the  wife  of  the  president  of  the  United  States. 

I was  thus  made  aware  that  Mrs.  Lincoln  and  her 
illustrious  husband  were  Southerners.  I have  since 
been  in  the  small,  mud-chinked  log  cabin  in  Eliza- 
bethtown, Kentucky,  in  which  he  was  born,  and  in 
which  his  infancy  and  little  boyhood  were  domiciled. 
Mrs.  White  had  married  an  Alabamian,  and  as  his 
wife  became  a citizen  of  his  State.  Her  sister,  Miss 
Todd,  was  visiting  her  at  the  enactment  of  the 
scene  described,  and  under  like  circumstances,  also 
became  a citizen  of  Alabama.  She  married  the  valiant 
gentleman  who  introduced  her  to  the  public  on  that 
memorable  occasion. 

I have  sought  and  obtained  from  Mrs.  Mary 
Dawson  Jordan,  of  Chattanooga,  Tennessee,  a 
daughter  of  Captain  Dawson,  a complete  record  of  the 
names  of  the  officers  and  members  of  this  patriotic 
company  of  Alabama’s  noble  sons — native  and 
adopted — which  I subjoin  as  an  item  of  history  that 
will  be  read  with  interest  by  all  who  revere  the 
memory  of  the  Lost  Cause  and  its  noble  defenders. 

Muster  Roll  of  the  “Magnolia  Cadets:” 

N.  H.  R.  Dawson,  Captain. 

(Enrolled  for  active  service  at  Selma,  Ala.,  on  the 
26th  day  of  April,  1861.  Mustered  into  service  on 
the  7th  day  of  May,  1861,  at  Lynchburg,  Ya.) 

Commanded  by  Col.  Ben  Alston  of  the  Fourth 
Alabama  Regiment  of  Volunteers. 

1.  N.  H.  R.  Dawson,  Captain. 

r.  Shortbridge,  Jr.,  Geo.  D.,  1st  Lieutenant. 

2.  McCraw,  S.  Newton,  2nd  Lieutenant. 


20 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


3.  Wilson,  John  R.,  3d  Lieutenant. 

1.  Waddell,  Ed.  R.,  1st  Sergeant. 

2.  Price,  Alfred  C.,  2d  Sergeant. 

3.  Daniel,  Lucian  A.,  3d  Sergeant. 

4.  Goldsby,  Boykin,  4th  Sergeant. 

1.  Bell,  Bush  W.,  1st  Corporal. 

2.  Garrett,  Robert  E.,  2d  Corporal. 

3.  Brown,  James  G.,  3d  Corporal. 

4.  Cohen,  Lewis,  4th  Corporal. 

1.  Melton,  George  F.,  Musician. 

2.  Marshall,  Jacob,  Musician. 


Privates. 


1.  Adkins,  Agrippa. 

2.  Adams,  William  S. 

3.  Avery,  William  C. 

4.  Byrd,  William  G. 

5.  Beattie,  Thomas  K. 

6.  Briggs,  Charles  H. 

7.  Bohannon,  Robert  B. 

8.  Baker,  Eli  W. 

9.  Bradley,  Hugh  C. 

10.  Cook,  Thomas  M. 

11.  Cook,  James  W. 

12.  Cook,  Benson. 

13.  Caughtry,  Joseph  R. 

14.  Cole,  George  W. 

15.  Cleveland,  George  W. 

16.  Cleveland,  Pulaski. 

17.  Cunningham,  Frank  M. 

18.  Coursey,  William  W. 

19.  Daniel,  John  R. 


20.  Densler,  John  E. 

21.  Donegay,  James  G. 

22.  Friday,  Hilliard  J. 

23.  Friday,  James  L.  . 

24.  Friday,  John  C. 

25.  Ford,  Joseph  H. 

26.  Grice,  Henry  F. 

27.  Haden,  James  G. 

28.  Harrill,  Thornton  R. 

29.  Hannon,  Wm.  H.,  Sr. 

30.  Hannon,  Wm.  H.,  Jr. 

31.  Hooks,  William  A. 

32.  Hodge,  William  L. 

33.  Jones,  William. 

34.  Jordan,  James  M. 

35.  Jackson,  Felix  W. 

36.  King,  William  R. 

37.  Kennedy,  Arch. 

38.  Kennedy,  George  D. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


21 


39.  Lamson,  Frank  R. 

40.  Lane,  William  B. 

41.  Lowry,  Uriah. 

42.  Lowry,  William  A. 

43.  Littleton,  Thomas  B. 

44.  Luske,  John  M. 

45.  Lamar,  John  H. 

46.  Mather,  Thomas  S. 

47.  Martin,  James  B. 

48.  May,  Syd  M. 

49.  May,  William  V. 

50.  Melton,  Thomas  J. 

51.  Miller,  Stephen  J. 

52.  Mimms,  George  A. 

53.  Moody,  William  R. 

54.  Mosely,  Andrew  B. 

55.  McNeal,  George  S. 

56.  McKerning,  John  W. 

57.  Overton,  John  B. 

58.  Overton,  Thomas  W. 

59.  O’Neal,  William. 

60.  Paisley,  Hugh  S. 

6 1.  Pryor,  John  W. 


62.  Pryor,  Robert  O. 

63.  Peeples,  Frank  W. 

64.  Raiford,  William  C. 

65.  Reinhardt,  George  L. 

66.  Robbins,  John  L. 

67.  Rucker,  Lindsay. 

68.  Rucker,  Henry. 

69.  Shiner,  David  H. 

70.  Stokes,  William  C. 

71.  Stone,  John  W. 

72.  Stewett,  Mayor  D. 

73.  Turner,  Daniel  M. 

74.  Thomas,  Lewis. 

75.  Tarver,  Ben  J. 

76.  Taylor,  William  E. 

77.  Terry,  Thomas  B. 

78.  Thompson,  John  S. 

79.  Thompson,  William  E. 

80.  Ursory,  Edward  G. 

81.  Vaughan,  Turner  P. 

82.  Wrenn,  Theodore  J. 

83.  Whallon,  Daniel. 


Copied  from  the  original  Muster  Roll  of  the  Magnolia  Cadets,  owned  by 
Henry  R.  Dawson,  son  of  N.  H.  R.  Dawson. 


22 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  WAR  RECORD  OF  DEKALB  COUNTY. 

DeKalb  County,  Georgia,  of  which  Decatur  is  the 
county  site,  was  among  the  first  to  enroll  troops  for 
Confederate  service.  The  first  volunteers  from  Deca- 
tur were  James  L.  George,  Hardy  Randall,  L.  J. 
Winn  and  Beattie  Wilson,  who  went  with  the  Atlanta 
Greys  the  last  of  May,  1861. 

The  first  company  from  DeKalb  County  was  that  of 
Captain  John  W.  Fowler.  It  was  called  the  DeKalb 
Light  Infantry,  and  was  mustered  into  service  in  At- 
lanta, as  part  of  the  7th  Georgia  Volunteers,  and  left 
for  Virginia  on  the  1st  of  June,  1861.  Those  going 
from  DeKalb  County  in  this  company  were:  First 
Lieutenant,  John  J.  Powell;  Second  Lieutenant, 
John  M.  Hawkins;  Third  Lieutenant,  James  L. 
Wilson ; First  Sergeant,  M.  L.  Brown ; Second 
Sergeant,  D.  C.  Morgan ; Third  Sergeant,  D.  E. 
Jackson;  Fourth  Sergeant,  John  W.  Fowler,  Jr.;  Cor- 
porals— H.  H.  Norman,  R.  F.  Davis,  C.  W.  L.  Powell; 
Privates — W.  W.  Bradbury  (afterwards  captain),  E. 
M.  Chamberlain,  W.  W.  Morgan,  W.  L.  Herron,  P. 
H.  Pate,  C.  E.  McCulloch,  James  W.  McCulloch,  L. 
C.  Powell,  H.  G.  Woodall,  J.  S.  Woodall,  A.  W. 
Mashburn,  V.  A.  Wilson,  W.  J.  Mason,  J.  V.  Austin, 
W.  M.  Austin,  John  Eads,  E.  A.  Davis,  Dr.  A.  S.  Ma- 
son, John  W.  Norman,  E.  L.  Morton,  Henry  Gentry, 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


23 


W.  M.  Cochran,  J.  B.  Cochran,  James  Hunter  (pro- 
moted captain),  W.  W.  Brimm,  William  Carroll,  C. 
W.  McAllister,  J.  O.  McAllister,  and  many  others  from 
the  county,  making  it  a full  company. 

The  second  company  from  DeKalb  was  the  Steph- 
ens Rifles,  Captain  L.  J.  Glenn.  They  went  into 
Cobb’s  Legion  about  August,  1861.  Dr.  Liddell, 
Frank  Herron,  Norman  Adams,  John  McCulloch,  John 
J.  McKoy,  and  some  others,  went  from  Decatur  in 
this  company. 

The  third  company  was  the  Murphey  Guards,  Cap- 
tain John  Y.  Flowers.  They  came  from  the  upper 
part  of  the  county,  near  Doraville.  This  company 
was  named  in  memory  of  Hon.  Charles  Murphey,  of 
DeKalb  County,  a prominent  lawyer  and  member  of 
Congress,  but  then  recently  deceased.  The  company 
had  been  uniformed  by  the  people  of  the  county,  a 
large  share  being  contributed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mil- 
ton  A.  Candler,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ezekiel  Mason. 
Mrs.  Candler,  whose  maiden  name  was  Eliza  Mur- 
phey, the  only  child  of  Charles  Murphey,  gave  the 
banner,  upon  which  was  inscribed,  “The  God  of  Jacob 
is  with  us.” 

The  fourth  company  was  the  Bartow  Avengers, 
Captain  William  Wright,  from  the  lower  part  of  the 
county  about  South  River.  The  fifth  company,  Cap- 
tain Rankin,  was  from  Stone  Mountain.  These  three 
last  mentioned  companies  went  into  the  38th  Georgia 
Regiment,  in  September,  1861,  and  belonged  to  the 
Virginia  Army.  The  sixth  company,  Captain  E.  L. 
Morton’s,  entered  service  the  last  of  August,  1861,  in 
the  36th  Georgia  Regiment,  and  was  with  the 


24 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Western  Army  under  Johnston.  The  seventh  com- 
pany, the  Fowler  Guards,  Captain  Clay,  went  into  the 
42nd  Georgia  Regiment  in  the  early  part  of  1862,  and 
was  also  in  the  Western  Army. 

There  were  several  companies,  mostly  composed  of 
DeKalb  County  men,  that  were  made  up  and  went 
from  the  camp  of  instruction  near  Decatur.  Moses  L. 
Brown  was  captain  of  one,  and  L.  D.  Belisle  of 
another.  Besides  the  companies  already  named,  all 
of  which  went  into  the  infantry,  there  were  many 
soldiers  from  DeKalb  that  went  into  the  cavalry  and 
artillery  service  of  the  regular  army. 

In  the  year  1863,  when  Georgia  was  threatened  by 
Rosecrans  coming  into  the  State  on  its  northern  bor- 
der, special  troops  were  raised  for  its  defence.  Major- 
General  Howell  Cobb  commanded  the  division ; General 
Henry  R.  Jackson,  one  of  the  brigades.  In  Jackson’s 
Brigade,  in  the  10th  Georgia  Regiment  State  Guards 
(Col.  John  J.  Glenn  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  J.  N.  Glenn), 
we  find  Company  A of  cavalry  troops.  Of  this  company 
Milton  A.  Candler  had  command.  These  troops  served 
through  1863  and  1864. 

In  April,  1863,  Paul  P.  Winn,  now  a Presbyterian 
minister,  then  a mere  youth,  went  into  the  army  in  the 
45th  Georgia  Regiment,  commanded  by  Col.  Thomas 
J.  Simmons.  Other  Decatur  boys  went  into  the  service 
from  other  sections  where  the  war  found  them  located. 
Among  these  were  Dr.  James  J.  Winn,  who  enlisted 
at  Clayton,  Alabama,  with  the  Barker  Greys,  and  was 
in  the  battle  of  Bull  Run.  After  a year  or  two  he  re- 
ceived a surgeon’s  commission,  being  the  youngest  sur- 
geon in  the  army. 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


25 


John  C.  Kirkpatrick,  just  eighteen,  went  into  the 
service  from  Augusta  with  the  Oglethorpe  Infantry. 
With  him  were  his  cousin,  William  Dabney  (now  a 
Presbyterian  minister  in  Virginia),  and  his  friend, 
Frank  Stone.  This  was  in  1862,  and  John  remained 
in  the  service  until  the  close  of  the  war,  having  been 
in  severe  battles  (for  he  was  in  Cleburne’s  Division), 
including  that  of  Jonesboro.  In  this  engagement 
were  other  Decatur  boys  in  other  commands.  Mr. 
John  B.  S wanton,  but  seventeen  years  old,  was  in  that 
battle,  and  says  that  by  his  side  stood,  when  mortally 
wounded,  Franklin  Williams,  the  brother  of  Mr. 
Hiram  J.  Williams.  Says  Mr.  Swanton : “He  was 
so  near  me  I could  have  touched  him  with  my  hand.” 
Three  sons  of  Mrs.  Martha  Morgan,  and  cousins  of 
DeWitt  Morgan,  were  all  in  the  service,  Henry,  Dan- 
iel, and  Joseph  Morgan.  Jesse  Chewning  and  Samuel 
Mann  were  in  the  64th  Georgia. 

Josiah  J.  Willard,  the  only  son  of  Mr.  Levi  Wil- 
lard, while  a sprightly,  active  youth,  was  near-sighted. 
He  had  a position  in  the  commissary  department  at 
Camp  Randolph,  near  Decatur,  and  went  with  it  to 
Macon,  July  nth,  1864,  and  remained  there  until  the 
place  surrendered  after  the  fall  of  Richmond.  He,  also, 
is  mentioned  in  other  sketches. 

There  were  also  several  companies  of  old  men  and 
boys  who  went  into  the  State  service  when  the  last 
call  for  troops  was  made  by  the  Confederate  govern- 
ment. 

Before  the  DeKalb  soldiers  go  to  meet  the  fortunes 
of  war,  let  us  recall  some  incidents  that  preceded  their 
departure.  On  the  northern  side  of  the  court-house 


26 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


square  there  stood  a large  building,  the  residence  of 
Mr.  Ezekiel  Mason.  Here,  day  after  day,  a band  of  de- 
voted women  met  to  make  the  uniforms  for  the  DeKalb 
Light  Infantry.  These  uniforms  had  been  cut  by  a 
V tailor,  but  they  were  to  be  made  by  women’s  hands. 
Among  the  leading  and  directing  spirits  in  this  work 
were  Mrs.  Jonathan  B.  Wilson,  Mrs.  Jane  Morgan,  Mrs. 
Ezekiel  Mason,  Mrs.  Levi  Willard,  Miss  Anna  Davis, 
Mrs.  James  McCulloch,  and  Miss  Lou  Fowler.  The 
most  of  this  sewing  was  done  by  hand. 

To  the  DeKalb  Light  Infantry,  the  day  before  its 
departure,  a beautiful  silken  banner  was  given.  The 
\Madies  of  the  village  furnished  the  material.  The  ad- 
dress of  presentation  was  made  by  Miss  Mollie  G. 
Brown.  In  September,  of  that  same  year,  my  sister 
was  invited  to  present  a banner  to  Captain  William 
Wright’s'  company.  Her  modest  little  address  was  re- 
sponded to  in  behalf  of  the  company  by  Rev.  Mr. 
Masbburn,  of  the  Methodist  Church.  In  March,  1862, 
there  was  another  banner  presented  from  the  piazza 
of  the  “Mason  Corner” — this  time  to  the  Fowler 
Guards,  by  Miss  Georgia  Hoyle.  This  banner  was 
made  by  the  fair  hands  of  Miss  Anna  E.  Davis.  By 
this  time  the  spirit  of  independence  of  the  outside 
world  had  begun  to  show  itself  in  the  Southern-made 
' grey  jeans  of  the  soldiers,  and  in  the  homespun  dress 
of  Miss  Hoyle. 

This  banner,  so  skillfully  made  by  Miss  Anna 
Davis,  had  a circle  of  white  stars  upon  a field  of  blue, 
and  the  usual  bars  of  red  and  white — two  broad  red 
bars  with  a white  one  between.  The  banner  of  this 
pattern  was  known  as  the  “stars  and  bars,”  and  was 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


27 


the  first  kind  used  by  the  Confederate  States.  In  May 
1863,  the  Confederate  Congress  adopted  a National  Flag, 
which  had  a crimson  field  with  white  stars  in  a blue- 
grounded  diagonal  cross,  the  remainder  of  the  flag  be- 
ing white.  But,  when  falling  limp  around  the  staff, 
and  only  the  white  showing,  it  could  easily  be  mistaken 
for  a flag  of  truce;  therefore  in  March,  1865,  the  final 
change  was  made  by  putting  a red  bar  across  the  end 
of  the  flag. 

But  what  of  the  fate  of  these  gallant  young  men, 
going  forth  so  full  of  hope  and  courage,  with  tender  and 
loving  farewells  lingering  in  their  hearts? 

Soon,  ah ! so  soon,  some  of  them  fell  upon  the 
crimson  fields  of  Virginia.  James  L.  George  ( J irti- 
mie,”  as  his  friends  lovingly  called  him)  was  killed  in 
the  first  battle  of  Manassas.  “Billy”  Morgan  died 
soon  after  the  battle,  and  was  buried  with  military 
honors  in  a private  cemetery  near  Manassas.  Two 
3?ears  after,  his  brother,  DeWitt  Morgan,  worn  out 
in  the  siege  of  Vicksburg,  was  buried  on  an  island  in 
Mobile  Bay.  At  the  second  battle  of  Manassas, 
James  W.  McCulloch  and  James  L.  Davis  were 
both  killed.  Later  on  W.  J.  Mason,  William  Car- 
roll,  John  M.  Eads,  H.  H.  Norman,  Billy  Wilson, 
and  Norman  Adams  were  numbered  among  the  slain. 
Among  the  wounded  were  Henry  Gentry,  Mose  Brown, 
John  McCulloch,  W.  W.  Brimm,  Dave  Chandler,  Riley 
Lawhorn,  and  Bill  Herring. 

A volume  could  easily  be  written  concerning  the 
bravery  and  the  sufferings  of  the  DeKalb  County  troops ; 
but  I must  forbear.  Concerning  Warren  Morton, 
of  the  36th  Georgia  Regiment,  who  went  into 


28 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


the  service  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  and  suffered  so  severely, 
I will  refer  my  readers  to  a sketch  in  the  latter  part 
of  this  book.  Of  William  M.  Durham,  so  young, 
so  gallant,  who  enlisted  in  Company  K,  42nd  Georgia 
Regiment,  much  of  interest  will  be  found  in  another 
chapter. 

Among  the  Decatur  members  of  Cobb’s  Legion 
was  Mr.  John  J.  McKoy,  who  went  out  in  the 
Stephens  Rifles  when  not  more  than  nineteen  years 
old.  He  was  in  the  battle  of  Yorktown,  Seven  Pines, 
and  in  the  Seven  Days  Fight  around  Richmond. 
Owing  to  illness,  and  to  business  arising  from  the 
attainment  of  his  majority,  he  came  home  in  1863, 
and,  hiring  a substitute  when  the  conscript  law  was 
passed,  went  to  work  at  the  Passport  Office  in  At- 
lanta. In  this  same  year  he  was  married  to  Miss 
Laura  Williams  of  Decatur.  Having  raised  Company 
A,  for  the  64th  Georgia  Regiment,  Mr.  McKoy  was 
with  it  when  it  was  sent  to  Florida,  and  was  in  the 
battle  of  Olustee  or  Ocean  Pond,  in  February,  1864, 
where  General  Alfred  H.  Colquitt  won  the  title  of 
“The  Hero  of  Olustee.”  Mr.  McKoy  remembers  to 
have  seen  on  that  eventful  day,  Col.  George  W.  Scott, 
then  of  Florida,  but  now  of  Decatur.  At  the  battle 
of  Olustee,  Col.  Scott  was  in  command  of  a regiment 
of  Cavalry.  The  banner  of  the  regiment  is  now  in  pos- 
session of  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Thomas  Cooper. 

The  64th  Georgia  was  then  sent  to  Virginia  in 
General  Wright’s  brigade.  A few  days  after  “The 
Mine  Explosion,”  or  undermining  of  the  Confederate 
works,  an  engagement  occurred  at  Deep  Bottom. 
Here,  General  Girardy,  of  Augusta,  was  killed,  and 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


29 


several  hundred  of  the  Confederates  were  captured, 
among  the  number  being  Mr.  McKoy.  This  was  in 
July,  1864.  He  was  sent  to  Fort  Delaware,  where  he 
remained  in  prison  until  the  close  of  he  war.  Here 
he  spent  a whole  winter  without  fire,  and  was  sub- 
ject to  all  that  Fort  Delaware  meant.  To  escape  the 
horrors  of  that  prison,  many  of  the  two  thousand  offi- 
cers there  confined,  took  the  oath  not  to  fight  against 
the  United  States.  But  Mr.  McKoy  and  thirty-four 
others  remained  in  prison,  firm  and  loyal,  even  after 
the  surrender,  believing  and  hoping,  up  to  July,  1865, 
that  the  war  would  be  carried  on  west  of  the  Mississippi 
River. 

The  soldiers  who  went  to  Virginia  knew  from 
their  own  experience  the  scenes  of  Manassas,  Mal- 
vern Hill,  Fort  Harrison,  Sharpsburg,  Fredericksburg, 
Gettysburg  and  the  Wilderness.  Yet  some  of  them 
were  left  to  be  surrendered  by  Lee  at  Appomatox 
Court  House.  The  companies  which  were  in  the 
Western  Army  were  in  the  leading  battles  of  that  divis- 
ion, and  were  equally  brave  and  abiding  in  their  devotion 
to  the  cause. 

For  many  of  the  foregoing  facts  concerning  the 
troops  from  DeKalb,  I am  greatly  indepted  to  Mr. 
Robert  F.  Davis,  who  went  with  DeKalb’s  first  com- 
pany, and  who,  after  braving  the  perils  of  the  war,  came 
off  unscathed.  He  still  lives  near  Decatur,  and  is  an 
elder  in  the  Presbyterian  church. 

I greatly  regret  my  inability,  even  if  I had  the 
space,  to  give  the  names  of  all  the  soldiers  who  went 
from  DeKalb,  and  to  tell  of  their  deeds  of  bravery  and 
endurance.  It  has  not  been  intentional  that  many  are 


30 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


wholly  omitted.  It  has  been  my  privilege  to  see  but 
one  muster-roll  of  our  county  troops — that  of  Com- 
pany K,  38th  Georgia  Regiment,  kindly  furnished  by 
Mr.  F.  L.  Hudgins,  of  Clarkston,  a brave  soldier  who 
was  in  command  of  the  company  when  Lee  sur- 
rendered. This  muster-roll  shows  that  out  of  the  118 
names,  forty-six  were  killed  (or  died),  and  seventeen 
were  wounded;  that  its  first  captain,  William  Wright, 
resigned,  and  that  three  other  captains  by  promotion 
were  all  killed,  i.  e.,  Gustin  E.  Goodwin,  George  W. 
Stubbs  and  R.  H.  Fletcher.  Indeed,  in  nearly  every 
instance,  promotion  in  this  company  meant  death  upon 
the  battle-field.  And  can  we  wonder  that  both  the 
commissioned  and  the  non-commissioned  fell,  when 
some  of  the  principal  battles  in  which  they  were  en- 
gaged bore  such  names  as  Cold  Harbor,  Malvern  Hill, 
Second  Manassas,  Sharpsburg,  Fredericksburg,  Chan- 
cellorsville,  Winchester,  Gettysburg,  The  Wilderness, 
Spottsylvania  Courthouse,  Mechanicsville,  Fisher’s 
Hill,  Cedar  Creek,  Louise  Courthouse  and  High 
Bridge? 

In  memory  of  the  dead,  for  the  sake  of  the  living 
and  for  the  descendants  of  all  mentioned  therein,  I copy 
the  muster-roll  of  this  company : 

Company  K,  38th  Georgia  Regiment: 

Captain  William  Wright — Resigned  July,  1862. 

1st  Lieutenant  Julius  J.  Gober — Died  July  26th,  1862. 
2nd  Lieutenant  Gustin  E.  Goodwin — Promoted  captain ; 
killed  August  28th,  1862. 

3rd  Lieutenant  George  W.  Stubbs — Promoted  captain ; 
killed  July  24th,  1864. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


31 


ist  Sergeant  John  S.  Johnston — Killed  June  27th, 
1862. 

2nd  Sergeant  W.  R.  Henry — Promoted  to  ist  Lieuten- 
ant; lost  a leg  December  13th,  1862. 

3rd  Sergeant  J.  A.  Maddox — Killed  at  Wilderness,  May 
5th,  1864. 

4th  Sergeant  F.  L.  Hudgins — Promoted  ist  Sergeant; 
wounded  at  Malvern  Hill ; shot  through  the  body  at 
Gettysburg. 

5th  Sergeant  E.  H.  C.  Morris — Promoted  3rd  Lieu- 
tenant ; killed  at  Second  Manassas,  August, 
1862. 

ist  Corporal  F.  M.  Gassaway — Killed  at  Second  Manas- 
sas, August,  1862. 

2nd  Corporal  J .M.  Walker — Died  in  camp. 

3rd  Corporal  W.  A.  Ward — Died  in  camp. 

4th  Corporal  James  L.  Anderson — Wounded  at  Manas- 
sas and  Spottsylvania  Court  House. 

John  H.  Akers — Killed  at  Second  Manassas,  1862. 

A.  W.  Allman — Killed  at  Cedar  Creek,  October  19th, 
1864. 

John  Adams — Died  in  camp. 

Enos  Adams — 

Isaac  W.  Awtry — 

W.  A.  Awtry — 

H.  V.  Bayne — Disabled  by  gunshot  wound.  Still  liv- 
ing. 

Allen  Brown — 

Lewis  Brown — 

Killis  Brown — 

William  M.  Brooks — 

H.  M.  Burdett — 


32 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


J.  S.  Burdett — 

John  S.  Boyd — 

James  E.  Ball — Killed  at  Gettysburg,  July,  1863. 

W.  H.  Brisendine — 

L.  R.  Bailey — Transferred  to  Cobb’s  Legion. 

John  E.  J.  Collier — 

James  Collier— Died  at  Charlottesville,  Va.,  1862. 

Z.  J.  Cowan — 

J.  J.  Cowan — 

G.  G.  Cook — 

James  E.  Chandler — Killed  at  Sharpsburg,  Md.,  Septem- 
ber 17th,  1862. 

W.  B.  Chandler — Died  in  camp,  May  31st,  1863. 

John  W.  Chandler — Killed  at  Second  Manassas,  August, 
1862. 

W.  A.  Childress — A physician  in  Atlanta. 

J.  H.  Childers — 

J.  M.  Dowis — Killed  at  Cold  Harbor,  June  27th, 
1862. 

W.  H.  Ellis— 

John  Eunis — 

R.  H.  Fletcher — Promoted  captain;  killed  in  1865. 

A.  M.  Gentry — Died  at  Savannah  in  1862. 

W.  F.  Goodwin — Promoted  3rd  Lieutenant ; killed  at 
Gettysburg  in  1863. 

C.  H.  Goodwin — Killed  at  Cold  Harbor. 

Joseph  Grogan — 

J.  H.  Grogan — 

J.  D.  Grogan — Killed  at  Sharpsburg,  Maryland,  Sep- 
tember 17th,  1862. 

Gideon  Grogan — Killed  at  Sharpsburg,  Maryland,  Sep- 
tember 17th,  1862. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


33 


James  H.  Gasaway — Disabled  by  gunshot. 

William  Gasaway — Disabled  by  gunshot. 

John  Gasaway — Discharged. 

W.  L.  Goss— 

F.  L.  Guess — Transferred  to  the  9th  Georgia  Artillery 
Battalion. 

H.  L.  Head— 

J.  L.  Henry — Killed  at  Coal  Harbor,  June  27th,  1862. 
W.  B.  Heldebrand — Died  recently. 

H.  H.  Hornbuckle — Killed  at  Coal  Harbor,  June  27th, 
1862. 

Joshua  Hammond — Killed  at  Sharpsburg,  September 
17th,  1862. 

R.  F.  Jones — Killed  at  Coal  Harbor. 

J.  W.  Jones — Disabled  by  gunshot. 

C.  S.  Jones — Killed  in  Richmond. 

R.  D.  F.  Jones — Disabled  by  gunshot. 

J.  M.  Jones — 

J.  H.  Jones — Disabled  by  gunshot. 

James  Jones — 

John  F.  Kelley — 

John  H.  Kelley— 

James  Kelley — 

W.  J.  Little — Disabled  by  gunshot. 

George  Lee — Died  in  camp. 

A.  J.  Lee — Discharged. 

Wiley  Manghon — 

J.  R.  Mitchell — Killed  December  13th,  1862,  at  Fred- 
ericksburg. 

W.  G.  Mitchell — Disabled  by  gunshot. 

E.  J.  Mitchell— 


34 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


W.  R.  Maguire — Disabled  by  gunshot. 

W.  A.  Morgan — 

B.  S.  McClain — Died  in  camp. 

John  W.  Nash — Killed  December  13th,  1862,  at  Fred- 
ericksburg. 

David  N.  Fair — Killed  at  Coal  Harbor,  June  27th,  1862. 
W.  B.  Owen — 

J.  J.  Pruett — Discharged. 

John  W.  Phillips — Killed  at  Coal  Harbor,  June  27th, 
1862. 

John  B.  Thompson — 

Will  Thompson — 

W.  M.  Richardson — Disabled  at  Second  Manassas. 

J.  S.  Richardson — Killed  at  Coal  Harbor,  June  27th, 

1862. 

D.  D.  Richardson — Died  at  Hanover  Junction,  1862. 

A.  W.  Stowers — 

W.  A.  Smith — 

J.  M.  Summey — Shot  through  at  Coal  Harbor. 

S.  J.  Summey — Killed  at  Winchester,  Va.,  June  13th, 

1863. 

James  Toney — Musician. 

C.  W.  Toney — Musician. 

M.  J.  Tweedle — Wounded  at  Winchester,  Va.,  Septem- 
ber 19th,  1864. 

S.  J.  Thomas — 

R.  L.  Vaughn — Died  at  Savannah,  Ga. 

J.  S.  Vaughn — Wounded  eight  times  at  Coal  Harbor. 

W.  T.  Vaughn — Had  both  hands  blown  off. 

J.  C.  Wiggins — Promoted  Second  Lieutenant;  killed  in 
June,  1864. 

J.  M.  Wiggins — 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


35 


R.  W.  Wiggins — Killed  at  Petersburg,  Va.,  March  27th, 
1865. 

E.  W.  Wiggins — Killed  at  Sharpsburg,  Maryland,  Sep- 
tember 17th,  1862. 

G.  W.  Wiggins — 

M.  O.  Wiggins — Disabled  at  Cedar  Creek,  October  19th, 
1864. 

G.  W.  Wade — Musician. 

E.  D.  Wade— 

F.  M.  Wade— 

B.  L.  Wilson — Killed  at  Marie’s  Heights,  May  4th, 

1863. 

W.  A.  Wright— 

W.  R.  Wood— 

Amos  Wheeler — Killed  at  Spottsylvania,  May  12th, 

1864. 

J.  H.  Wilson — Killed  at  Gettysburg,  July  1st,  1863. 
Jordan  Wilson — Killed  at  Coal  Harbor,  June  27th, 
1862. 


86 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  III. 

LABORS  OF  LOVE. 

Musical — Decatur. 

To  a woman  who  lives  and  moves  and  has  her 
being  in  the  past,  an  invocation  to  time  to  “turn 
backward  in  its  flight,”  would  seem  superfluous.  The 
scenes  of  other  years  being  ever  present,  it  would  also 
seem  that  time,  as  a loving  father,  would  linger  fondly 
around  her  with  panaceas  for  decay,  mental  and  phys- 
ical ; that  her  heart  would  never  grow  old,  and  her 
person  never  lose  the  attractions  of  youth ; but,  in  the 
economy  of  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well,  such  is  not 
the  decree  regarding  aught  that  is  mortal.  And 
when  the  ravages  incident  to  one’s  career  have  de- 
stroyed personal  charm,  and  divested  the  mind  of 
sparkling  gem,  the  soul  yearns  for  the  protection  of 
childhood  and  the  companionship  of  youth.  Scenes 
of  the  past,  though  dyed  with  “the  blood  of  martyrs,” 
are  ever  passing  in  kaleidoscopic  beauty  before  the 
mind’s  eye,  and  tones  too  sweet  for  mortal  ear  are  ever 
thrilling  the  heart  with  strange,  sweet,  expectant 
pleasure.  This  train  of  reflection,  only  far  more  elab- 
orate, seizes  for  its  guiding  star,  on  this  occasion,  a 
scene  which  at  the  time  of  its  enactment  was  indelibly 
impressed  upon  my  mind,  and  left  living,  glowing 
tints,  illumining  my  pathway  through  subsequent 
life ; a scene  in  which  lovely  girlhood,  arrayed  in  pure 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


3 


white  robes,  lent  a helping  hand  in  the  important 
work  of  supplying  our  soldiers  with  comforts,  all  the 
more  appreciated  because  of  the  source  from  which 
emanating.  With  closed  eyes,  I see  it  now  and  listen 
to  its  enchanting  melody.  To  render  it  more  realistic 
than  could  be  done  by  any  description  of  mine,  I sub- 
join a copy  of  the  “Programme,”  the  original  of  which 
I have  preserved : 

GRAND  MUSICAL  ENTERTAINMENT ! 

RELIEF  FUND 

FOR  OUR  SOLDIERS,  L — "" 

THURSDAY,  MAY  15,  1862, 

AT  THE  COURTHOUSE. 

By  the  ladies  of  Decatur,  Georgia,  assisted  by  Wil- 
liam H.  Barnes,  Colonel  Thomas  F.  Lowe,  Professor 
Hanlon,  W.  A.  Haynes,  R.  O.  Haynes,  Dr.  Geutebruck 
and  Dr.  Warmouth,  of  Atlanta. 

PROGRAMME. 

Part  I. 

1.  Opening  Chorus — Company. 

2.  Piano  Duet — “March  from  Norma” — Miss  Geor- 
gia Hoyle  and  Miss  Missouri  Stokes. 

3.  Solo — “Roy  Neil” — Mrs.  Robert  Alston. 

4.  Quartette — Atlanta  Amateurs. 

5.  “Tell  Me,  Ye  Winged  Winds” — Company. 

6.  “Our  Way  Across  the  Sea” — Miss  G.  Hoyle  and 
Professor  Hanlon. 


38 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


7-  March  Piano  Duet — Miss  Laura  Williams  and 
Miss  Fredonia  Hoyle. 

8.  Solo — Professor  Hanlon. 

9-  Comic  Song — W.  H.  Barnes. 

10.  Violin  Solo — Colonel  Thomas  F.  Lowe. 

11.  Solo — Dr.  Warmouth. 

12.  “When  Night  Comes  O’er  the  Plain” — Miss  M. 
Stokes  and  Professor  Hanlon. 

13.  “The  Mother’s  Farewell” — Mrs.  Maggie  Bene- 
dict. 


Part  II. 

1.  Chorus — “Away  to  the  Prairie” — Company. 

2.  Piano  Solo — Miss  G.  Hoyle. 

3.  Song — Atlanta  Amateurs. 

4.  Coquette  Polka — Misses  Hoyle  and  Stokes. 

5.  Chorus — “Let  us  Live  with  a Hope” — Company. 

6.  “Mountain  Bugle” — Miss  M.  Stokes  and  Com- 
pany. 

7.  “Mazurka  des  Traineaux” — Piano  Duet — Misses 
Hoyle  and  Stokes. 

8.  Shiloh  Retreat — Violin — Colonel  Thomas  F. 
Lowe. 

Concluding  with  the  Battle  Song:  “Cheer,  Boys, 
Cheer” — W.  H.  Barnes. 

Tickets,  50c.  Children  and  Servants,  half  price. 
Doors  open  7:30  o’clock.  Commence  at  8:15  o’clock. 


Atlanta  Intelligencer  Power  Print. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


39 


LABOES  OF  LOVE. 

Musical — Atlanta. 

The  citizens  of  Decatur  were  always  invited  to  en- 
tertainments, social,  literary,  and  musical,  in  Atlanta, 
that  had  in  view  the  interest,  pleasure  or  comfort  of  our 
soldiers ; therefore  the  invitation  accompanying  the  fol- 
lowing programme  received  ready  response : 

TWELFTH  MUSICAL  SOIREE 
— of  the — 

ATLANTA  AMATEURS, 

Monday  evening,  June  24,  1861, 

For  the  Benefit  of 
ATLANTA  VOLUNTEERS, 

Captain  Woddail, 
and  the 

CONFEDERATE  CONTINENTALS, 

Captain  Seago, 

Who  Are  Going  to  Defend  Our  Land. 

Let  all  attend  and  pay  a parting  tribute  to  our  brave 
soldiers. 

PROGRAMME. 

Part  I. 

1.  We  Come  Again — (Original) — Company. 

2.  Dreams — (A  Reverie) — Miss  J.  E.  Whitney. 

3.  Violin  Solo — (Hash) — Colonel  Thomas  F.  Lowe. 

4.  Not  for  Gold  or  Precious  Stones” — Miss  R.  J. 

Hale. 


40 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


5.  Yankee  Doodle — According  to  W.  A.  Haynes. 

6.  Dixie  Variations — Mrs.  W.  T.  Farrar. 

7.  “Two  Merry  Alpine  Maids” — Misses  M.  F.  and 
J.  E.  Whitney. 

8.  “When  I saw  Sweet  Nellie  Home” — Misses  Sas- 
seen  and  Judson. 

9.  “Root  Hog  or  Die” — W.  H.  Barnes. 

Instrumental  Trio,  “La  Fille  du  Regiment” — Messrs. 
Schoen  and  Heindl.  Vermicelli,  (Variations) — W.  H. 
Barnes  and  Openheimer. 

Part  II. 

1.  “Our  Southern  Land” — C.  P.  Haynes  and  Com- 
pany. 

2.  “Through  Meadows  Green” — Miss  M.  F.  Whit- 
ney.* 

3.  Solo — Thomas  D.  Wright. 

4.  “Home,  Sweet  Home” — Miss  R.  J.  Hale. 

5.  Violin  Exemplification — Col.  Thomas  F.  Lowe. 

6.  “Happy  Days  of  Yore” — Mrs.  Hibler. 

7.  Quartette — (original) — Misses  Whitney,  Messrs. 
Barnes  and  Haynes. 

8.  “Rocked  in  the  Cradle  of  the  Deep” — Prof.  Han- 
lon. Encore — Ballad. 

9.  “I  Come,  I Come” — Misses  Sasseen,  Westmore- 
land and  Sims. 

The  whole  to  conclude  with  the  grand  original. 


*This  lady,  Miss  “ Frank”  Whitney,  is  now  the  wife  of  Mr.  Charles  W. 
ubner,  the  well-known  Atlanta  poet. 


DURING  THE  TFAtf. 


41 


TABLEAU, 

(In  Two  Parts). 

The  Women  and  Children  of  Dixie  Rejoicing  Over  the 
Success  of  the  Confederate  Banner. 

Scene  I.  The  Children  of  Dixie. 

Scene  2.  The  Women — The  Soldiers — Our  Flag — 
Brilliant  Illumination. 

Doors  open  at  half  past  7 o’clock.  Curtain  will  rise 
at  half  past  8 o’clock. 

Tickets,  Fifty  Cents.  Ushers  will  be  on  hand  to  seat 
audience. 


W.  H.  Barnes,  Manager. 


42 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


\s 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LABORS  OF  LOVE. 

Knitting  and  Sewing  and  Writing  Letters  to  “Our  Soldiers.” 

A patriotic  co-operation  between  the  citizens  of 
Decatur  and  Atlanta  soon  sprang  up,  and  in  that, 
as  in  all  things  else,  a social  and  friendly  inter- 
change of  thought  and  feeling  and  deed  existed ; 
and  we  were  never  so  pleased  as  when  aiding 
each  other  in  the  preparation  of  clothing  and 
edibles  for  “our  soldiers,”  or  in  some  way  contributing 
to  their  comfort. 

Many  of  us  who  had  never  learned  to  sew 
became  expert  handlers  of  the  needle,  and  vied 
with  each  other  in  producing  well-made  garments ; 
and  I became  a veritable  knitting  machine.  Be- 
sides the  discharge  of  many  duties  incident  to 
the  times  and  tending  to  useful  results,  I knitted 
a sock  a day,  long  and  large,  and  not  coarse, 
many  days  in  succession.  At  the  midnight  hour 
the  weird  click  of  knitting  needles  chasing  each 
other  round  and  round  in  the  formation  of  these 
useful  garments  for  the  nether  limbs  of  “our  boys,” 
was  no  unusual  sound ; and  tears  and  orisons 
blended  with  woof  and  warp  and  melancholy  sighs. 
For  at  that  dark  hour,  when  other  sounds  were 
shut  out,  we  dared  to  listen  with  bated  breath  to 
“ the  still,  small  voice”  that  whispered  in  no  un- 
mistakable language  suggestions  which  would 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


43 


have  been  rebuked  in  the  glare  of  the  noonday 
sun. 

No  mother  nor  sister  nor  wife  nor  aunt  of  a 
Confederate  soldier,  need  to  be  told  what  were  the 
depressing  suggestions  of  that  “still,  small  voice”  on 
divers  occasions. 

When  the  knitting  of  a dozen  pairs  of  socks 
was  completed,  they  were  washed,  ironed  and 
neatly  folded  by  one  of  our  faithful  negro  wo- 
men, and  I then  resumed  the  work  of  preparing 
them  for  their  destination.  Each  pair  formed  a 
distinct  package.  Usually  a pretty  necktie,  a pair 
of  gloves,  a handkerchief  and  letter,  deposited  in 
one  of  the  socks,  enlarged  the  package.  When  all 
was  ready,  a card  bearing  the  name  of  the  giver, 
and  a request  to  “inquire  within,”  was  tacked  on 
to  each  package.  And  then  these  twelve  packages  were 
formed  into  a bundle,  and  addressed  to  an  officer  in 
command  of  some  company  chosen  to  be  the  recipient 
of  the  contents. 

I will  give  a glimpse  of  the  interior  of  my  letters 
to  our  boys.  These  letters  were  written  for  their  spiri- 
tual edification,  their  mental  improvement  and  the?v 
amusement. 

“Never  saw  I the  righteous  forsaken.” 

“ Full  many  a gem  of  purest  ray  serene, 

The  dark  unfathomed  eaves  of  ocean  bear; 

Full  many  a flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 

And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air.” 

P.  S. — “Apples  are  good  but  peaches  are  better; 

If  you  love  me,  you  will  write  me  a letter.” — M. 


44 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


“Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth. 

“If  in  the  early  morn  of  life, 

You  give  yourself  to  God, 

He'll  stand  by  you  ’mid  earthly  strife, 

And  spare  the  chast’ning  rod.’’ — 

P.  S. — “Roses  are  red  and  violets  blue, 

Sugar  is  sweet  and  so  are  you.” — M. 

“Love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.” 

“May  every  joy  that  earth  can  give 
Around  thee  brightly  shine; 

Remote  from  sorrow  may  you  live, 

And  all  of  heaven  be  thine.” — 

P.  S. — Remember  me  when  this  you  see, 

Though  many  miles  apart  we  be. — M. 

“Love  worketh  no  ill  to  his  neighbor;  therefore  love  is  the 
fulfillment  of  the  law.” 

“This  above  all — to  thine  own  self  be  true, 

And  it  must  follow  as  night  the  day, 

Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  one.” 

P.  S. — “Sure  as  the  vine  twines  round  the  stump, 

You  are  my  darling  sugar  lump.” — M. 

“The  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is  at  hand;  let  us,  therefore, 
east  off  the  works  of  darkness  and  let  us  put  on  the  armour  of 
light.” 

“As  for  my  life,  it  is  but  short, 

When  I shall  be  no  more; 

To  part  with  life  I am  content, 

As  any  heretofore. 

Therefore,  good  people,  all  take  heed, 

This  warning  take  by  me — 

According  to  the  lives  you  lead, 

Rewarded  you  shall  be.” 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


45 


P.  S. — “My  pen  is  bad,  my  ink  is  pale, 

My  love  for  you  shall  never  fail.” — M. 

“Blessed  are  the  peacemakers;  for  they  shall  be  called  the 
children  of.  God.” 

“The  harp  that  once  through  Tara’s  halls 
The  soul  of  music  shed, 

Now  hangs  as  mute  on  Tara’s  wall, 

As  if  that  soul  were  fled. 

So  sleeps  the  pride  of  former  days, 

So  glory’s  thrill  is  o’er; 

And  hearts  that  once  beat  high  for  praise 
Now  feel  that  pulse  no  more. 

No  more  to  chiefs  and  ladies  bright 
The  harp  of  Tara  swells ; 

The  chord  alone  that  breads  at  night 
Its  tale  of  ruin  tells. 

Thus  Freedom,  now  so  seldom  wakes, 

The  only  throb  she  gives 

Is  when  some  heart  indignant  breaks 
To  show  that  still  she  lives.” — 

P.  S. — “My  love  for  you  will  ever  flow, 

Like  water  down  a cotton  row.” — M. 

“The  earth  is  the  Lord’s  and  the  fullness  thereof ; 
the  world  and  they  that  dwell  therein. 

“For  He  hath  founded  it  upon  the  seas,  and  estab- 
lished it  upon  the  floods. 

“Who  shall  ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord,  or  who 
shall  stand  in  his  holy  place? 

“He  that  hath  clean  hands  and  a pure  heart ; who 
hath  not  lifted  up  his  soul  unto  vanity  nor  sworn  de- 
ceitfully.” 

“Know  thyself,  presume  not  God  to  scan. 

The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man.” 


46 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


P.  S. — “Round  as  the  ring  that  has  no  end, 

Is  my  love  for  you,  my  own  sweet  friend.” — M. 

“God  is  love.” 

“Poor  soul,  the  centre  of  my  sinful  earth, 

Fooled  by  those  rebel  powers  that  there  array, 

Why  dost  thou  pine  within  and  suffer  dearth, 

Painting  thy  outward  walls  so  costly  gay? 

Why  so  large  cost,  having  so  short  a lease. 

Dost  thou  upon  thy  fading  mansion  spend? 

Shall  worms,  inheritors  of  this  excess, 

Eat  up  thy  charge?  Is  this  thy  body’s  end?” 

P.  S. — “If  you  love  me  as  I love  you, 

No  knife  can  cut  our  love  in  two.” — M. 

“But  this  I say,  He  that  soweth  sparingly  shall  reap 
also  sparingly ; and  he  which  soweth  bountifully, 
shall  reap  also  bountifully.  Every  man  according  as 
he  purposeth  in  his  heart,  so  let  him  give,  not  grudg- 
ingly, or  of  necessity ; for  God  loveth  a cheerful  giver.” 

“Before  Jehovah’s  awful  throne 
Ye  nations  bow  with  sacred  joy; 

Know  that  the  Lord  is  God  alone ; 

He  can  create  and  He  destroy.” 

P.  S. — “Above,  below,  in  ocean,  earth  and  skies. 

Nothing’s  so  pretty  as  your  blue  eyes.” — M. 

“I  am  come  a light  into  the  world,  that  whosoever 
believeth  on  Me  should  not  abide  in  darkness.” 

“And  neither  the  angels  in  heaven  above, 

Nor  the  demons  down  under  the  sea, 

Can  ever  dissever  my  soul  from  the  soul 
Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee.” 

P.  S. — “Remember  me!  Remember  me! 

When  this  you  see — Remember  me!” — M. 


DURING  THE  T VAR. 


47 


“The  Lord  shall  command  the  blessing  upon  thee 
in  the  storehouses,  and  in  all  that  thou  settest  thine 
hand  unto.” 

“Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us, 

We  can  make  our  lives  sublime. 

And  departing,  leave  behind  us, 

Footprints  on  the  sands  of  Time.” 

P.  S. — “Remember  well  and  bear  in  mind, 

A pretty  girl’s  not  hard  to  find: 

But  when  you  find  one  nice  and  Gay 
Hold  on  to  her  both  night  and  day. — M. 

“He  that  covereth  his  sins  shall  not  prosper;  but 
whoso  confesseth  and  forsaketh  them  shall  have 
mercy.” 


“I’d  give  my  life  to  know  thy  art, 
Sweet,  simple,  and  divine; 

I’d  give  this  world  to  melt  one  heart, 
As  thou  hast  melted  mine.” — Mary. 
P.  S. — “As  the  earth  trots  round  the  sun, 

My  love  for  you  will  ever  run.” — M. 


48 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  THIRD  MARYLAND  ARTILLERY. 

Some  Old  Songs. 

At  some  time  in  1863,  it  was  my  privilege  to  meet 
a gallant  band  of  men  whose  faith  in  the  justice  of 
our  cause  was  so  strong  that  they  were  constrained  to 
turn  their  faces  Southward  and  imperil  their  lives  in 
its  defence.  These  men  represented  the  highest  type  of 
manhood  in  Maryland. 

Sickness  entered  their  camp,  and  the  good  ladies  of 
Decatur  insisted  upon  providing  the  comforts  of  home 
for  the  sick  and  wounded.  Those  to  whom  it  was  my 
privilege  to  minister  belonged  to  the  Third  Maryland 
Artillery,  under  command  of  Captain  John  B. 
Rowan.* 

Among  them  was  one  whose  appreciation  of  kind- 
ness shown  him  ripened  into  an  undying  friendship, 
Captain  W.  L.  Ritter,  a devoted  Christian  gentleman, 
and  now  an  elder  in  Doctor  LeFevre’s  Church,  Balti- 
more. 

His  fondness  for  that  beautiful  Southern  song,  by 
James  R.  Randall,  entitled  “Maryland,  My  Maryland!” 
was  truly  pathetic. 

I subjoin  the  words  to  stir  up  the  souls  of  our  people 
by  way  of  remembrance. 


*This  brave  officer  was  killed  near  Nashville,  Tennessse,  Dec.  16th,  1864. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


49 


MARYLAND,  MY  MARYLAND. 

The  despot’s  heel  is  on  thy  shore, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

His  touch  is  on  thy  temple  door, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Avenge  the  patriotic  gore, 

That  flowed  the  streets  of  Baltimore, 

And  be  the  battle-queen  of  yore, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Hark  to  a wand’ring  son’s  appeal, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

My  mother  state,  to  thee  I kneel, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

For  life  and  death,  for  woe  and  weal, 

Thy  peerless  chivalry  reveal, 

And  gird  thy  beauteous  limbs  with  steel, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Thou  wilt  not  cower  in  the  dust, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

Thy  beaming  sword  shall  never  rust, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Remember  Carroll’s  sacred  trust, 
Remember  Howard’s  warlike  thrust, 

And  all  thy  slumberers  with  the  just, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Come,  ’tis  the  red  dawn  of  the  day, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

Come  with  thy  panoplied  array, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

With  Ringold’s  spirit  for  the  fray, 

With  Watson’s  blood  at  Monterey, 

With  fearless  Lowe  and  dashing  May; 
Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Dear  Mother!  burst  thy  tyrant’s  chain, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

Virginia  should  not  call  in  vain, 


50 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

She  meets  her  sisters  on  the  plain, 

“Sic  Semper,”  ’tis  the  proud  refrain 
That  baffles  minions  back  again, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Come!  for  thy  shield  is  bright  and  strong, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

Come!  for  thy  dalliance  does  thee  wrong, 
Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Come  to  thy  own  heroic  throng, 

That  stalks  with  liberty  along, 

And  give  a new  Key  to  thy  song, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

I see  the  blush  upon  thy  cheek, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

But  thou  wast  ever  bravely  meek, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

But,  lo!  there  surges  forth  a shriek. 

From  hill  to  hill,  from  creek  to  creek, 

Potomac  calls  to  Chesapeake, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Thou  wilt  not  yield  the  vandal  toll, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

Thou  wilt  not  crook  to  his  control, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Better  the  fire  upon  thee  roll, 

Better  the  shot,  the  blade,  the  bowl, 

Than  crucifixion  of  the  soul 
Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

I hear  the  distant  thunder  hum, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

The  Old  Line  bugle,  fife  and  drum, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

She  is  not  dead,  nor  deaf,  nor  dumb — 

Huzza!  she  spurns  the  Northern  scum; 

She  breathes!  She  burns!  She’ll  come,  she’ll  come 
Maryland,  My  Maryland. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


51 


An  additional  verse  as  sung  by  Mrs.  Jessie  Clark,  of 
Crisp’s  Co.,  Friday  night,  Sept.  12th,  1862. 

Hark!  tis  the  cannon’s  deaf'ning  roar, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland! 

Old  Stonewall’s  on  thy  hallow’d  shore, 

Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

Methinks  I hear  the  loud  huzza 
Ring  through  the  streets  of  Baltimore — 

Slaves  no  longer — free  once  more 
Maryland,  My  Maryland. 

There  were  other  songs  sung  in  those  days.  Some 
of  the  most  popular  were  “Bonnie  Blue  Flag," 

“Dixie,”  “Bob  Roebuck  is  my  Soldier  Boy,”  “Who 

will  Care  for  Mother  Now?”  “Her  Bright  Smile 

Haunts  me  Still,”  “Let  me  Kiss  Him  for  his  Mother,” 
“All  Quiet  Along  the  Potomac  To-Night,”  "’Rock  me 
to  Sleep,  Mother,”  “When  I Saw  Sweet  Nellie  Home,” 
“Just  Before  the  Battle,  Mother.”  In  a collection  of 
old  music,  now  never  played,  there  lie  before  me  copies 
of  these  songs.  They  were  published  in  various 

Southern  cities  on  paper  not  firm  and  smooth,  but 
rather  thin  and  coarse,  but  q-uite  presentable.  What 
memories  these  songs  awake ! Where,  oh  where,  are 
those  who  sang  them  over  thirty  years  ago ! Who  of 
the  singers  are  now  living?  How  many  have  gone  to 
the  Eternal  Shore? 


52 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A DARING  AND  UNIQUE  CHASE. 

The  Capture  and  Re-capture  of  the  Railroad  Engine,  “The 
“General.” 

In  the  early  spring  of  1862,  there  occurred  an  epi- 
sode of  the  war  which,  up  to  that  date,  was  the  most 
exciting  that  had  happened  in  our  immediate  section. 
The  story  has  often  been  told;  but  instead  of  relying 
upon  my  memory,  I will  condense  from  the  written 
statement  of  Mr.  Anthony  Murphy,  of  Atlanta,  Geor- 
gia, who  was  one  of  the  principal  actors  in  the  chase. 

Mr.  Murphy  begins  his  narrative  by  saying:  “On 
Saturday  morning,  April  12th,  1862,  about  4 o’clock,  I 
went  aboard  a passenger  train  that  started  then  for 
Chattanooga,  Tennessee.  My  business  that  day  was 
to  examine  an  engine  that  furnished  power  to  cut 
wood  and  pump  water  for  the  locomotives  at  Allatoona, 
a station  forty  miles  from  Atlanta.  As  foreman  of 
machine  and  motive  power,  it  became  my  duty  to  go 
that  morning.  This  train  was  in  charge  of  Engineer 
Jeff  Cain,  and  Conductor  W.  A.  Fuller.  It  was  known 
as  a freight  and  passenger  train.  The  train  arrived  in 
Marietta,  twenty  miles  from  Atlanta,  shortly  after 
daylight.  I stepped  from  the  coach  and  noticed  a 
number  of  men  getting  on  the  car  forward  of  the  one 
I rode  in.  They  were  dressed  like  citizens  from  the 
country,  and  I supposed  they  were  volunteers  for  the 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


53 


army,  going  to  Big  Shanty,  now  known  as  Kennesaw, 
a station  about  eighteen  miles  from  Marietta,  where 
troops  were  organized  and  forwarded  to  the  Confed- 
erate army  in  Virginia  and  other  points.  At  this  sta- 
tion the  train  stopped  for  breakfast,  and,  as  the  en- 
gineer, conductor,  myself  and  other  passengers  went 
to  get  our  meals,  no  one  was  left  in  charge  of  the  loco- 
motive. I had  about  finished,  when  I heard  a noise 
as  if  steam  were  escaping.  Looking  through  a win- 
dow I saw  the  cars  move,  saw  the  engineer  and  fire- 
man at  the  table,  and  said  to  them:  ‘Some  one  is 
moving  your  engine.’  By  this  time  I was  at  the  front 
door,  and  saw  that  the  train  was  divided  and  passing  out 
of  sight.” 

Mr.  Murphy,  the  conductor,  and  the  engineer  then 
held  a brief  consultation.  He  asked  about  the  men 
who  got  on  at  Marietta  (who  afterwards  proved  to  be 
a Federal  raiding  party,  Andrews  and  his  men),  and 
remarked : “They  were  the  men  who  took  the  engine 

and  three  cars.”  At  the  time  he  thought  they  were 
Confederate  deserters,  who  would  run  the  engine  as 
far  as  it  would  have  steam  to  run,  and  then  abandon 
it.  Mr.  Murphy  and  his  two  comrades  concluded  that 
it  was  their  duty  to  proceed  after  them.  A Mr.  Ken- 
drick, connected  with  the  railroad,  coming  up,  they 
requested  him  to  go  on  horseback  to  Marietta,  the 
nearest  telegraph  station,  and  communicate  with  the 
superintendent  at  Atlanta,  while  they  “put  out  on 
foot  after  a locomotive  under  steam.”  Knowing  they 
would  reach  a squad  of  trackhands  somewhere  on  the 
line,  they  had  some  hope,  and  they  did,  in  a few  miles, 
meet  a car  and  hands  near  Moon’s  Station,  about  two 


54 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


miles  from  Big  Shanty.  They  pressed  the  car,  and 
two  hands  to  propel  it,  which  propelling  was  done  by 
poles  pressed  against  the  ties  or  ground,  and  not  by  a 
crank.  Soon  they  reached  a pile  of  cross-ties  on  the 
track,  and  found  the  telegraph  wire  cut.  Clearing  off 
the  ties,  they  pressed  on  until  they  reached  Acworth 
Station,  six  miles  from  Big  Shanty.  There  they 
learned  that  the  train  they  were  pursuing  had  stopped 
some  distance  from  the  depot,  and  having  been  care- 
fully examined  by  its  engineer,  had  moved  off  at 
a rapid  rate.  This  satisfied  the  pursuers  that  the 
capturers  of  the  engine  “meant  something  more  than 
deserters  would  attempt and  then  they  “thought  of 
enemies  from  the  Federal  army.”  Says  the  narrator: 
“We  moved  on  to  Allatoona.  At  this  place  we  re- 
ceived two  old  guns,  one  for  Fuller,  and  one  for  the 
writer.  I really  did  not  know  how  long  they  had  been 
loaded,  nor  do  I yet,  for  we  never  fired  them.  These 
were  the  only  arms  on  our  engine  during  our  chase. 
Two  citizens  went  along  from  here,  which  made  about 
seven  men  on  our  little  pole-car.  As  we  proceeded 
toward  Etowah,  we  moved  rapidly,  being  down  grade, 
when  suddenly  we  beheld  an  open  place  in  the  track. 
A piece  of  rail  had  been  taken  up  by  the  raiders.  Hav- 
ing no  brake,  we  could  not  hold  our  car  in  check,  and 
plunged  into  this  gap,  turning  over  with  all  hands 
except  Fuller  and  myself,  who  jumped  before  the  car 
left  the  track.  The  little  car  was  put  on  again,  and 
the  poling  man  sent  back  to  the  next  track-gang  to 
have  repairs  made  for  following  trains.” 

Arriving  at  Etowah,  the  pursuers  found  the  engine 
“Yonah,”  used  by  the  Cooper  Iron  Company,  and 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


55 


pressed  it  into  service.  They  got  an  open  car,  and 
stocked  it  with  rails,  spikes  and  tools,  and  moved  on 
to  Cartersville.  Passing  on  to  Rogers’  Station,  they 
learned  that  the  raiders  had  stopped  there  for  wood 
and  water,  telling  Mr.  Rogers  that  they  were  under 
military  orders,  and  that  the  engine  crew  proper  were 
coming  on  behind.  At  Kingston  the  raiders  had  told 
that  they  were  carrying  ammunition  to  General 
Beauregard,  on  the  line  of  the  Memphis  and  Charles- 
ton Railroad,  near  Huntsville,  Alabama.  At  this 
point  the  “Yonah”  was  sent  back  to  Etowah,  and  the 
supply  car  of  the  pursuers  coupled  to  the  engine 
“New  York.”  But  at  Kingston  the  Rome  Railroad 
connects  with  the  Western  & Atlantic  road,  and  the 
Rome  engine  and  train  were  in  the  way.  Instead  of 
clearing  the  track  for  the  “New  York,”  the  crowd  at 
the  Kingston  depot,  having  learned  the  news,  took 
possession  of  the  Rome  engine  and  some  cars  attached, 
and  pulled  out  for  the  chase,  which  compelled  Mr. 
Murphy  and  his  friends  to  abandon  their  outfit  and 
run  to  get  on  the  same  train.  A few  miles  were 
made,  when  they  found  a pile  of  cross-ties  on  the 
rails,  and  the  telegraph  wires  cut.  Clearing  the 
track  they  moved  on,  when  they  encountered  another 
gap.  Here  Messrs.  Murphy  and  Fuller,  believing 
that  they  would  meet  the  engine  “Texas”  with  a 
freight  train,  left  the  obstructed  train  and  pressed  on 
again  on  foot,  advising  the  crowd  to  return,  which 
they  did.  The  pursuers  met  the  “Texas”  two  miles 
from  Adairsville,  and,  motioning  the  engineer  to 
stop,  they  went  aboard  and  turned  him  back.  At 
Adairsville  they  learned  that  Andrews  had  not  been 


56 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


long  gone.  Says  the  narrator : ‘‘About  three  miles 
from  Calhoun  we  came  in  sight  for  the  first  time  of 
the  captured  engine,  and  three  freight  cars.  They 
had  stopped  to  remove  another  rail,  and  were  in  the  act 
of  trying  to  get  it  out  when  we  came  in  sight.  * * * 

As  we  reached  them,  they  cut  loose  one  car  and 
started  again.  We  coupled  this  car  to  our  engine, 
and  moved  after  them.  * * * From  Resaca  to  Tilton 

the  road  was  very  crooked,  and  we  had  to  move 
cautiously.  The  distance  between  us  was  short.  * * * 
I feared  ambushing  by  Andrew — reversing  the  en- 
gine and  starting  it  back  under  an  open  throttle 
valve.  * * * To  prevent  us  closing  in  on  them,  the 
end  of  the  box  car  was  broken  out,  and  from  this  they 
threw  cross-ties  on  the  track  to  check  our  speed  and 
probably  derail  us.  * * * I had  a long  bar  fastened 
to  the  brake  wheel  of  the  tender  to  give  power  so  that 
four  men  could  use  it  to  help  check  and  stop  the  en- 
gine suddenly.  I also  stood  by  the  reverse  lever  to  aid 
the  engineer  to  reverse  his  engine,  which  he  had  to  do 
many  times  to  avoid  the  cross-ties. 

“Passing  through  and  beyond  Tilton,  we  again 
came  in  sight.  At  this  point  the  road  has  a straight 
stretch  of  over  a mile.  A short  distance  from  Tilton 
and  just  as  we  rounded  the  curve,  ‘The  General’  with 
the  raiders  was  rounding  another  curve,  leaving  the 
straight  line,  giving  us  a fine  view  for  some  distance 
across  the  angle.  * * * The  fastest  run  was  made  at 
this  point.  * * * I imagine  now,  as  I write  this,  I see 
the  two  great  locomotives  with  their  human  freight 
speeding  on,  one  trying  to  escape,  the  other  endeavor- 
ing to  overtake,  and  if  such  had  happened  none  might 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


57 


have  been  left  to  give  the  particulars  of  that  exciting 
and  daring  undertaking.  The  chances  of  battle  were 
certainly  against  us  if  Andrews  had  attempted  fight.” 

Just  beyond  Dalton  the  pursuers  found  the  tele- 
graph wire  cut.  On  reaching  the  “tunnel,”  they 
were  satisfied  that  Andrews  was  short  of  wood,  or  the 
tunnel  would  not  have  been  so  clear  of  smoke.  Pass- 
ing through  the  tunnel  they  kept  on,  and  beyond 
Ringgold,  about  two  miles,  the  captors  left  “The 
General”  and  made  for  the  woods.  The  pursuers 
were  in  sight  of  them.  Mr.  Fuller  and  others  started 
after  the  raiders.  Mr.  Murphy  went  on  the  engine  to 
examine  the  cause  of  the  stop.  He  found  no  wood  in 
the  furnace,  but  plenty  of  water  in  the  boiler.  Says 
Mr.  Murphy:  “I  took  charge  of  the  engine,  ‘General,’ 
had  it  placed  on  the  side-track,  and  waited  for  the 
first  train  from  Chattanooga  to  Atlanta.  I reached 
Ringgold  about  dark.  I went  aboard,  and  reaching 
Dalton,  the  first  telegraph  station,  I sent  the  first 
news  of  our  chase  and  re-capture  of  the  ‘General’  to 
Atlanta.” 


58 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Coming  Home  from  Camp  Chase — The  Faithful  Servant’s 
Gift — A Glimpse  of  Confederate  Braves. 

“A  letter  from  Marse  Thomie,”  said  our  mail  carrier, 
Toby,  as  he  got  in  speaking  distance  on  his  return  from 
the  post  office. 

“What  makes  you  think  so?”  I said,  excitedly. 

“I  know  his  hand-write,  and  this  is  it,”  selecting  a 
letter  from  a large  package  and  handing  it  to  me.  The 
very  first  glimpse  of  the  superscription  assured  me  of 
the  correctness  of  his  confident  assertion. 

The  letter  was  addressed  to  our  mother,  and  bore  a 
United  States  postage  stamp,  and  the  beloved  signa- 
^ ture  of  her  only  son,  Thomas  J.  Stokes.  A thrill  of 
gratitude  and  joy  filled  our  hearts  too  full  for  utterance, 
as  we  read : 

“My  Dear  Mother  : I have  learned  that  the  sol- 
diers of  the  ioth  Texas  Infantry  will  be  exchanged 
for  United  States  troops  very  soon,  perhaps  to- 
morrow ; and  then,  what  happiness  will  be  mine ! I 
can  scarcely  wait  its  realization.  A visit  home,  a 
mother’s  embrace  and  kiss,  the  heart-felt  manifesta- 
tions of  the  love  of  two  sisters,  and  the  joy  and  glad 
expressions  of  faithful  servants.  I may  bring  several 
friends  with  me,  whom  I know  you  will  welcome,  both 
for  my  sake  and  theirs — they  are  valiant  defenders  of 
the  cause  we  love.  Adieu,  dear  mother,  and  sisters, 
until  I see  you  at  home,  ‘home,  sweet  home.’  ” 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


59 


“Thomie  is  coming  home!”  “Thomie  Stokes  is 
coming  home !”  was  the  glad  announcement  of 
mother,  sisters,  and  friends ; and  the  servants  took 
up  the  intelligence,  and  told  everybody  that  Marse 
Thomie  was  coming  home,  and  was  going  to 
bring  some  soldiers  with  him. 

Another  day  dawned  and  love’s  labor  commenced 
in  earnest.  Doors  were  opened,  and  rooms  ventila- 
ted ; bed-clothing  aired  and  sunned,  and  dusting  brushes 
and  brooms  in  willing  hands  removed  every  particle 
of  that  much  dreaded  material  of  which  man  in  all  his 
glory,  or  ignominy,  was  created.  Furniture  and  pic- 
ture frames  were  polished  and  artistically  arranged. 
And  we  beheld  the  work  of  the  first  day,  and  it  was 
good. 

When  another  day  dawned  we  were  up  with  the 
lark,  and  his  matin  notes  found  responsive  melody  in 
our  hearts,  the  sweet  refrain  of  which  was,  “Thomie 
is  coming” — the  soldier  son  and  brother.  Light 
bread  and  rolls,  rusks  and  pies,  cakes,  etc.,  etc., 
were  baked,  and  sweetmeats  prepared,  and  an- 
other day’s  work  was  ended  and  pronounced 
satisfactory. 

The  third  day,  for  a generous  bonus,  “Uncle  Mack’s” 
services  were  secured,  and  a fine  pig  was  slaughtered 
and  prepared  for  the  oven,  and  also  a couple  of  young 
hens,  and  many  other  luxuries  too  numerous  to 
mention. 

When  all  was  ready  for  the  feast  of  thanks- 
giving for  the  return  of  the  loved  one,  the  waiting 
seemed  interminable.  There  was  pathos  in  every 
look,  tone,  and  act  of  our  mother — the  lingering  look 


60 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


at  the  calendar,  the  frequent  glance  at  the  clock, 
told  that  the  days  were  counted,  yea,  that  the  hours 
were  numbered.  At  length  the  weary  waiting 

ended,  and  the  joyous  meeting  came  of  mother 
and  son,  of  sisters  and  brother,  after  a separation  of 
four  years  of  health  and  sickness,  of  joy  and  anguish,  of 
hope  and  fear. 

As  we  stood  upon  the  platform  of  the  Decatur 

depot,  and  saw  him  step  from  the  train  which 

we  had  been  told  by  telegram  would  bring  him 
to  us,  our  hearts  were  filled  with  consternation 
and  pity,  and  tears  unbidden  coursed  down  our 
cheeks,  as  we  looked  upon  the  brave  and  gallant 
brother,  who  had  now  given  three  years  of  his 

early  manhood  to  a cause  rendered  dear  by  in- 
heritance and  the  highest  principles  of  patriotism, 

and,  in  doing  so,  had  himself  become  a physical 
wreck.  He  was  lean  to  emaciation,  and  in  his 

pale  face  was  not  a suggestion  of  the  ruddy 
color  he  had  carried  away.  A constant  cough, 
which  he  tried  in  vain  to  repress,  betrayed  the 
deep  inroads  which  prison  life  had  made  upon  his 
system ; and  in  this  respect  he  represented  his 

friends — in  describing  his  appearance,  we  leave 
nothing  untold  about  theirs.  In  war-worn  pants  and 
faded  grey  coats,  they  presented  a spectacle  never  to  be 
forgotten. 

Joy  and  grief  contended  for  the  supremacy. 
We  did  not  realize  that  even  a brief  period  of 

good  nursing  and  feeding  would  work  a great 
change  in  the  physical  being  of  men  just  out  of 
the  prison  pens  of  the  frigid  North,  and  wept  to  think 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


61 


that  disease,  apparently  so  deeply  rooted,  could  not 
be  cured,  and  that  they  were  restored  to  us  but  to 
die.  Perceiving  our  grief  and  divining  the  cause, 
our  Thomie  took  us,  our  mother  first,  into  his 
arms  and  kissed  us,  and  said  in  his  old-time  way,  “I’ll 
be  all  right  soon.” 

And  Toby  and  Telitha,  the  house  servants,  came  in 
for  their  share  of  kindly  greeting. 

Thomie  then  introduced  us  to  Captain  Lauderdale, 
Captain  Formwalt,  and  Lieutenant  McMurray,  his  Texas 
friends  and  comrades  in  arms.  Our  cordial,  heart-felt 
welcome  was  appreciated  by  this  trio  of  gentlemen,  and 
to  this  day  we  receive  from  them  messages  of  abiding 
friendship.  Captain  Lauderdale  was  one  of  the  most 
perfect  gentleman  I ever  saw,  tall,  graceful,  erect,  and 
finely  formed.  His  face,  of  Grecian  mould,  was  faultless  ; 
and  his  hair,  black  as  a raven’s  plumage,  and  interspersed 
with  grey,  would  have  adorned  the  head  of  a king.  His 
bearing  was  dignified  and  yet  affable,  and  so  polished  and 
easy  in  manner  as  to  invite  most  friendly  intercourse. 

Captain  Formwalt  was  also  a fine  specimen  of  man- 
hood— free  and  easy,  gay  and  rollicking.  He  seemed 
to  think  his  mission  on  earth  was  to  bring  cheerful- 
ness and  glee  into  every  household  he  entered. 

Lieutenant  McMurray  was  unlike  either  of  his 
friends.  Apparently  cold,  apathetic  and  reserved,  he 
repelled  all  advances  tending  to  cordial  relations,  until 
well  acquainted,  after  which  he  was  metamorphosed 
into  a kind  and  genial  gentleman. 

Thomie,  dear  Thomie,  was  a boy  again,  and  while 
our  guests  were  refreshing  themselves  preparatory  to 
dinner,  he  was  going  all  over  the  house,  for  every  nook 


62 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


and  corner  was  endeared  by  association.  He  opened  the 
piano,  and  running  his  fingers  over  the  keys  with  the 
grace  and  ease  of  his  boyhood,  he  played  accompani- 
ments to  his  favorite  songs,  “Home  Again,”  and  “Way 
Down  Upon  the  Suwanee  River,”  trying  to  sing,  but 
prevented  by  the  irrepressible  coughing.  Then,  with 
nervous  hand,  he  essayed  “When  this  Cruel  War  is 
Over.”  Turning  away  from  the  piano,  he  went  to  the 
library  and  handled  with  tender  care  the  books  he  had 
read  in  boyhood.  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Byron  and 
Moore  possessed  no  interest  for  him  now  ; and  Blackstone 
and  Chitty  were  equally  ignored.  The  books  his  mother 
and  sister  read  to  him  in  his  childhood  were,  as  if  by 
intuition,  selected,  and  fondly  conned  and  handled.  His 
own  name  was  written  in  them,  and  his  tearful  eyes  lin- 
gered long  and  lovingly  upon  these  reminders  of  boy- 
hood’s happy  hours.  With  a sigh  he  left  the  library, 
and  espying  Toby,  who  kept  where  he  could  see  as  much 
as  possible  of  “Marse  Thomie,”  he  called  the  boy  and 
held  an  encouraging  little  conversation  with  him. 

Dinner  being  ready,  our  mother  led  the  way  to  the 
dining  room.  Our  guests  having  taken  the  seats  as- 
signed them,  Thomie  took  his  near  his  mother — his 
boyhood’s  seat  at  table.  By  request,  Captain  Lauder- 
dale asked  the  blessing.  And,  oh,  what  a blessing  he 
invoked  upon  the  “dear  ones,  who,  with  loving  hands, 
prepared  this  feast  for  the  son  and  brother  of  the  house- 
hold, and  for  his  friends  in  peace  and  comrades  in  war.” 
Pleasant  conversation  ensued,  and  all  enjoyed  the  re- 
past. But  the  gentlemen  seemed  to  us  to  eat  very  little, 
and,  in  reply  to  our  expression  of  disappointment,  they 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


63 


explained  the  importance  of  limiting  themselves  for  sev- 
eral days  in  this  respect. 

As  there  was  no  trunk  to  send  for,  and  no  valise  to 
carry,  we  rightly  surmised  that  the  clothing  of  these 
good  men  was  limited  to  the  apparel  in  which  they  were 
clad,  and  it  was  decided  by  my  mother  and  myself  that 
I should  go  to  Atlanta  and  get  material  for  a suit  of 
clothes  for  Thomie,  and  good  warm  underclothing  for 
them  all.  Arrived  at  Atlanta,  I was  irresistibly  led  by 
that  mystic  power,  which  has  often  controlled  for  good 
results  the  acts  of  man,  to  go  to  Dr.  Taylor’s  drug 
store.  Here  I found  King,  our  faithful  negro  man,  as 
busy  as  a bee,  labeling  and  packing  medicine  for  ship- 
ment. I approached  him  and  said : 

“King,  Thomie  has  come.” 

“Marse  Thomie?” 

“Yes.” 

“Thank  God,”  he  said  with  fervor. 

When  I was  about  leaving  the  store,  he  said : 

“Miss  Mary,  just  wait  a minute,  please,  and  I will 
get  something  that  I want  you  to  take  to  Marse  Thomie, 
and  tell  him  I don’t  want  him  to  be  hurt  with  me  for 
sending  it  to  him.  I just  send  it  because  I love  him — 
me  and  him  was  boys  together,  you  know,  and  I always 
thought  he  ought  to  ’er  took  me  with  him  to  the  war.” 

“What  is  it,  King?” 

“Just  a little  article  I got  in  trade,  Miss  Mary,”  was 
all  the  satisfaction  he  vouchsafed. 

When  he  handed  it  to  me,  knowing  by  the  sense  of 
touch  that  it  was  a package  of  dry  goods,  I took  it  to 
Mrs.  O’Connor’s  millinery  establishment,  and  asked  the 
privilege  of  opening  it  there.  Imagine  my  astonishment 


64 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


and  delight,  when  I beheld  a pattern  of  fine  grey  cassi- 
mere.  I felt  of  it,  and  held  it  up  between  my  eyes  and 
the  light.  There  was  nothing  shoddy  about  it.  It  was 
indeed  a piece  of  fine  cassimere,  finer  and  better  than  any- 
thing I could  have  procured  in  Atlanta  at  that  time.  The 
circumstance  was  suggestive  of  Elijah  and  the  ravens, 
and  I thanked  God  for  the  gift  so  opportune,  and  lost 
no  time  in  returning  to  the  drug  store,  and  thanking 
King,  the  raven  employed  by  the  Lord  to  clothe  one 
of  His  little  ones.  Nor  did  I lose  any  time  in  adding  to 
the  package  other  articles  of  necessity,  flannel  and  the 
best  Georgia-made  homespun  I could  procure,  and  was 
then  ready  to  take  the  return  train  to  Decatur.  Thomie 
was  deeply  touched  by  the  opportune  gift,  and  said  that 
King  was  a great  boy,  and  that  he  must  see  him. 

After  supper  I clandestinely  left  the  house,  and  ran 
around  to  Todd  McAllister’s  and  begged  him  to  take 
the  job  of  making  the  suit.  He  agreed  to  cut  the  coat, 
vest  and  pantaloons  by  measure,  and  for  that  purpose 
went  home  with  me,  shears  and  tape  measure  in  hand. 
Having  finished  this  important  part  of  the  job,  he  told 
me  he  could  not  make  the  suit  himself,  but  he  thought  if 
I would  “talk  right  pretty  to  the  old  lady,”  she  would 
do  it.  Next  morning  I lost  no  time  in  “talking  pretty” 
to  the  old  lady,  and,  having  secured  her  promise  to  under- 
take the  work,  it  was  soon  in  her  hands.  With  the  help 
of  faithful,  efficient  women,  and  I suspect  of  her  husband, 
too,  the  job  was  executed  surprisingly  soon.  In  the 
meantime  the  making  of  flannel  garments,  and  home- 
spun  shirts  with  bosoms  made  of  linen  pillow-cases, 
was  progressing  with  remarkable  celerity. 

When  all  was  finished,  and  Thomie  was  arrayed  in 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


65 


his  new  suit,  which  set  admirably  well  notwithstanding 
the  room  allowed  for  increasing  dimensions,  which  we 
doubted  not  under  good  treatment  he  would  attain — 
King  Solomon,  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  was  not  looked 
upon  with  more  admiration  than  was  he  by  his  loving 
mother  and  sisters.  His  cough  had  in  a measure  yielded 
to  remedies,  and  his  cheeks  bore  the  tinge  of  better 
blood. 

Good  Mr.  Levi  Willard,  his  wife  and  children,  had 
already  been  to  see  Thomie  and  the  strangers  within  our 
gates,  and  many  others  had  sent  kind  messages  and  sub- 
stantial tokens  of  regard.  And  the  young  people  of 
Decatur,  young  ladies  and  little  boys,  were  planning  to 
give  him  a surprise  party.  And  among  these  loving  at- 
tentions was  a visit  from  King,  the  faithful. 

The  flowers  bloomed  prettier,  the  birds  sang  sweeter, 
because  of  their  presence ; but  time  waits  for  no  man,  and 
we  were  admonished  by  low  conversations  and  suggestive 
looks  that  these  men,  officers  in  the  army  of  the  Con- 
federacy, were  planning  their  departure. 

Many  amusing  incidents,  as  well  as  those  of  a hor- 
rible character,  were  told  of  their  prison  life  in  Camp 
Chase.  To  illustrate  the  patriotism  of  Southern  men, 
Colonel  Deshler,  as  a prisoner  of  war,  figured  conspic- 
uously; and  many  anecdotes,  ludicrous  and  pathetic, 
quaint  and  original,  revealed  the  deep  devotion  of  his 
love  for  the  South.  In  jone  of  these  word-paintings, 
he  was  represented  as  sitting  on  his  legs,  darning  the 
seat  of  his  pantaloons,  when  a feminine  curiosity  seeker 
came  along.  When  she  perceived  his  occupation,  she 
said  with  a leer  that  would  have  done  credit  to  Lucifer 


66 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


“You  rebels  find  it  pretty  hard  work  to  keep  your 
gray  duds  in  order,  don’t  you?” 

Without  looking  at  her,  he  whistled  in  musical  ca- 
dence the  contempt  he  felt  for  her  and  her  ilk ; and  the 
imprecations,  he  would  not  have  expressed  in  words, 
were  so  distinct  and  well  modulated  as  to  leave  no  doubt 
as  to  their  meaning. 

The  time  had  come  for  the  nature  of  the  low-toned 
conversations  referred  to,  to  be  revealed,  and  Thomie 
was  chosen  to  make  the  revelation.  Planning  to  have 
mother  and  sisters  present,  he  discussed  the  duties  of 
patriotism,  and  the  odium  men  brought  upon  themselves 
by  not  discharging  those  duties.  Making  the  matter  per- 
sonal, he  referred  to  himself  and  friends,  to  the  great 
pleasure  and  personal  benefit  derived  from  a week’s  so- 
journ at  home;  of  the  love  for  us  that  would  ever  linger 
in  their  hearts ; of  the  pleasant  memories  that  would 
nerve  them  in  future  conflicts ; and  in  conclusion  told  us 
that  to-morrow  they  would  leave  us  to  join  their  com- 
mand at  Tullahoma,  where  the  decimated  regiment  was 
to  stay  until  its  numbers  were  sufficiently  recruited  for 
service. 

Instead  of  yielding  to  grief,  we  repressed  every  evi- 
dence of  it,  and  spoke  only  words  of  encouragement  to 
these  noble  men  who  had  never  shirked  a duty,  or  sought 
bomb-proof  positions  in  the  army  of  the  Confederacy. 
After  this  interview,  Thomie  abandoned  himself  to  cheer- 
fulness, to  almost  boyish  gaiety.  He  kept  very  close  to 
his  mother.  She  had  grown  old  so  rapidly  since  the 
troubles  began,  that  she  needed  all  the  support  that  could 
be  given  her  in  this  ordeal.  This  he  perceived  without 
seeming  to  do  so,  and  left  nothing  within  his  power  un- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


67 


done  for  her  encouragement.  He  even  discussed  with 
perfect  equanimity  the  probability,  yea,  the  more  than 
probability,  of  his  getting  killed  in  battle ; for,  said  he, 
“he  that  taketh  up  the  sword,  by  the  sword  shall  he  per- 
ish.” And,  he  added,  “strong,  irrepressible  convictions 
constrained  me  to  enter  the  army  in  defense  of  mother, 
home,  and  country.  My  vote  was  cast  for  the  secession 
of  my  state  from  the  union  of  states  which  existed  only 
in  name,  and  I would  not  have  accepted  any  position  ten- 
dered me  which  would  have  secured  me  from  the  dangers 
involved  by  that  step.  I was  willing  to  give  my  life  if 
need  be,  for  the  cause  which  should  be  dear  to  every 
Southern  heart.” 

Every  one  present  responded  to  these  noble  senti- 
ments, for  were  we  not  soldiers,  too,  working  for  the 
same  noble  cause,  and  aiding  and  abetting  those  who 
fought  its  battles? 

Before  retiring  to  our  rooms.  Captain  Lauderdale, 
as  usual,  led  in  prayer,  fervent,  deep  and  soul-support- 
ing, more  for  our  mother  and  ourselves  than  for  him- 
self and  his  comrades  in  their  perilous  positions.  And 
dear  Thomie,  whom  I had  never  heard  pray  since  his 
cradle  invocation, 

“Now  I lay  me  down  to  sleep, 

I pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep,” 

finished  in  words  thrilling  and  beautiful.  The  effect  was 
electrical.  Tears  and  sobs  were  no  longer  repressed,  and 
all  found  relief  from  long  pent-up  feelings.  O,  the 
blessedness  of  tears ! 

Morning  came,  clear  as  crystal,  and  cool  and  ex- 
hilarating. The  household  were  up  at  early  dawn.  A 


68 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


strong  decoction  of  coffee  was  prepared,  and  fresh  cream 
toast  and  boiled  eggs,  meat  relishes  being  served  cold. 
Knapsacks — there  were  knapsacks  now — were  packed, 
and  blankets  rolled  and  buckled  in  straps,  and  our  ebony 
Confederates,  Toby  and  Telitha,  stood  ready  to  convey 
them  to  the  depot.  In  order  to  meet  the  morning  train 
at  seven  o’clock  we  started,  but  the  services  of  Toby  and 
Telitha  were  not  accepted.  The  gentlemen  said  it  would 
never  do  for  soldiers  to  start  off  to  report  for  service 
with  negroes  carrying  their  knapsacks  and  blankets.  They 
had  no  muskets  to  shoulder,  for  of  these  they  had  been 
divested  at  Arkansas  Post,  months  ago,  when  captured 
by  the  enemy. 

Lieutenant  McMurray,  who  was  in  feeble  health, 
announced  himself  unable  to  report  for  duty,  and  re- 
mained with  us  several  weeks  longer. 

The  parting  at  the  depot  did  not  betray  the  grief,  al- 
most without  earthly  hope,  that  was  rankling  in  our 
hearts,  and  the  “good-bye’s”  and  “God  bless  you’s”  were 
uttered  with  a composure  we  little  thought  at  our  com- 
mand. 

As  the  time  of  his  departure  had  drawn  near,  Thomie 
had  sought  opportunities  to  tell  me  much  of  the  young 
girl  in  Texas,  who  had  healed  the  lacerations  of  his 
youthful  heart,  and  won  the  admiration  of  his  manhood, 
and  whom  he  had  made  his  wife.  Upon  her  devotion  he 
dwelt  with  peculiar  pathos  and  gratitude;  and  he  con- 
cluded these  conversations  with  the  request  that  under 
any  and  all  circumstances  I would  be  a sister  to  her.  On 
one  occasion  we  were  standing  near  the  piano,  and,  when 
we  ceased  to  talk,  Thomie  opened  it,  and  in  tones  that 


DURIJVG  the  war. 


69 


came  from  the  heart,  and  that  were  tremulous  with  emo- 
tion, he  sang,  “When  this  Cruel  War  is  Over.” 

Why  sings  the  swan  its  sweetest  notes. 

When  life  is  near  its  close? 

Since  writing  the  foregoing,  I have  had  access  to  a 
journal  kept  during  the  war  by  my  half  sister,  Missouri 
Stokes,  in  which  are  the  following  entries  of  historic 
value:  “On  the  nth  of  January,  1863,  Arkansas  Post 
the  fort  where  Thomie  was  stationed,  fell  into  the  hands 
of  Yankees.  General  Churchhill’s  whole  command,  num- 
bering about  four  thousand,  were  captured,  a few  being 
killed  and  wounded.  We  knew  that  Thomie,  if  alive, 
must  be  a prisoner,  but  could  hear  no  tidings  from  him. 
Our  suspense  continued  until  the  latter  part  of  March, 
when  ma  received  a letter  from  our  loved  one,  written  at 
Camp  Chase  (military  prison),  Ohio,  February  10th. 
This  letter  she  forwarded  to  me,  and  I received  it  March 
2 1 st,  with  heart-felt  emotions  of  gratitude  to  Him  who 
had  preserved  his  life.  A few  weeks  afterwards  another 
letter  came,  saying  he  expected  to  be  exchanged  in  a few 
days,  and  then  for  several  weeks  we  heard  no  more.” 

From  this  journal  I learn  that  the  date  of  Thomie’s 
arrival  was  May  16th,  1863.  My  sister  wrote  of  him: 
“He  seemed  much  changed,  although  only  four  years  and 
a half  had  elapsed  since  we  parted.  He  looked  older, 
thinner,  and  more  careworn,  and  gray  hairs  are  sprinkled 
among  his  dark  brown  curls.  His  health  had  been  poor 
in  the  army,  and  then,  when  he  left  Camp  Chase,  he,  as 
well  as  the  other  prisoners,  was  stripped  by  the  Yankees 
of  nearly  all  his  warm  clothing.  He  left  the  prison  in 
April,  and  was  exchanged  at  City  Point.  How  strange 


70 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


the  dealings  of  Providence.  Truly  was  he  led  by  a way 
he  knew  not.  He  went  out  to  Texas  by  way  of  the 
West,  and  returned  home  from  the  East.  God  be  thank- 
ed for  preserving  his  life,  when  so  many  of  his  comrades 
have  died.  He  is  a miracle  of  mercy.  After  their  cap- 
ture, they  were  put  on  boats  from  which  Yankee  small- 
pox patients  had  been  taken.  Some  died  of  small-pox, 
but  Thomie  has  had  varioloid  and  so  escaped.  He  was 
crowded  on  a boat  with  twenty-two  hundred,  and  scarcely 
had  standing  room.  Many  died  on  the  passage  up  the 
river,  one  poor  fellow  with  his  head  in  Thomie’s  lap. 
May  he  never  go  through  similar  scenes  again !” 

From  this  same  journal  I take  the  following,  writ- 
ten after  Missouri’s  return  to  the  school  she  was  teach- 
ing in  Bartow  County : 

“Sabbath  morning,  June  14th.  Went  to  Cartersville 
to  church.  Some  time  elapsed  before  preaching  com- 
menced. A soldier  came  in,  sat  down  rather  behind  me, 
then,  rising,  approached  me.  It  was  Thomie.  I soon 
found  (for  we  did  talk  in  church)  that  he  had  an  order 
to  join  Kirby  Smith,  with  a recommendation  from  Bragg 
that  he  be  allowed  to  recruit  for  his  regiment.  Fortu- 
nately there  was  a vacant  seat  in  the  carriage,  so  he  went 
out  home  with  us.  Monday  15th,  Thomie  left.  I rode 
with  him  a little  beyond  the  school-house,  then  took  my 
books  and  basket,  and  with  one  kiss,  and,  on  my  part,  a 
tearful  good-bye,  we  parted.  As  I walked  slowly  back, 
I felt  so  lonely.  He  had  been  with  me  just  long  enough 
for  me  to  realize  a brother’s  kind  protection,  and  now 
he’s  torn  away,  and  I’m  again  alone.  I turned  and  look- 
ed. He  was  driving  slowly  along — he  turned  a corner 
and  was  hidden  from  my  view.  Shall  I see  him  no  more  ? 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


71 


Or  shall  we  meet  again?  God  only  knows.  After  a fit 
of  weeping,  and  one  earnest  prayer  for  him,  I turned  my 
steps  to  my  little  school.” 

And  thus  our  brother  went  back  to  Texas,  and  gladly, 
too,  for  was  not  his  Mary  there  ? 

Of  Thomie’s  recall  to  join  his  command  at  Dalton;  of 
his  arrival  at  home  the  next  February,  on  his  way  to 
“the  front of  his  participation  in  the  hard-fought  bat- 
tles that  contested  the  way  to  Atlanta;  and  of  his  un- 
timely death  at  the  fatal  battle  of  Franklin,  Tennessee, 
I may  speak  hereafter. 

Even  in  the  spring  and  summer  of  1863,  the  shad- 
ows began  to  deepen,  and  to  hearts  less  sanguine  than 
mine,  affairs  were  assuming  a gloomy  aspect.  I notice 
in  this  same  journal  from  which  I have  quoted  the  fore- 
going extracts,  the  following : 

“Our  fallen  braves,  how  numerous ! Among  our 
generals,  Zollicoffer,  Ben  McCulloch,  Albert  Sidney 
Johnston,  and  the  saintly,  dauntless  Stonewall  Jackson, 
are  numbered  with  the  dead ; while  scarcely  a household 
in  our  land  does  not  mourn  the  loss  of  a brave  husband 
and  father,  son  or  brother.” 


72 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SOME  SOCIAL  FEATURES. 

Morgan’s  Men  Rendezvous  near  Decatur — Waddell’s  Artillery 
— Visits  from  the  Texans — Surgeon  Haynie  and  his  Song. 

In  the  winter  of  1864  there  seems  to  have  been  a 
lull  of  hostilities  between  the  armies  at  “the  front.” 
Morgan’s  men  were  rendezvousing  near  Decatur.  Their 
brave  and  dashing  chief  had  been  captured,  but  had  made 
his  escape  from  the  Ohio  penitentiary,  and  was  daily  ex- 
pected. Some  artillery  companies  were  camping  near, 
among  them  Waddell’s.  There  was  also  a conscript 
camp  within  a mile  or  two ; so  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  the  young  ladies  of  Decatur  availed  themselves  in 
a quiet  way  of  the  social  enjoyment  the  times  afforded, 
and  that  there  were  little  gatherings  at  private  houses  at 
which  “Morgan’s  men”  and  the  other  soldiers  were  fre- 
quently represented. 

Our  brother  was  absent  in  Texas,  where  he  had 
been  assigned  to  duty,  but  my  sister  was  at  home,  and 
many  an  hour’s  entertainment  her  music  gave  that  winter 
to  the  soldiers  and  to  the  young  people  of  Decatur.  My 
mother’s  hospitality  was  proverbial,  and  much  of  our 
time  these  wintry  months  was  spent  in  entertaining  our 
soldier  guests,  and  in  ministering  to  the  sick  in  the  At- 
lanta hospitals,  and  in  the  camps  and  temporary  hospitals 
about  Decatur. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


73 


So  near  were  we  now  to  “the  front”  (about  a hundred 
miles  distant),  that  several  of  my  brother’s  Texas  com- 
rades obtained  furloughs  and  came  to  see  us.  Among 
these  were  Lieutenants  Pendergast  and  Jewell,  Cap- 
tain Leonard  and  Lieutenant  Collins,  Captain  Bennett  and 
Lieutenant  Donathan.  They  usually  had  substantial 
boots  made  while  here,  by  Smith,  the  Decatur  boot  and 
shoe  maker,  which  cost  less  than  those  they  could  have 
bought  in  Atlanta.  We  received  some  very  pleasant 
calls  from  Morgan’s  men  and  Waddell’s  Artillery. 
Among  the  latter  we  have  always  remembered  a young 
man  from  Alabama,  James  Duncan  Calhoun,  of  remarka- 
ble intellectual  ability,  refreshing  candor  and  refinement 
of  manner.  Ever  since  the  war  Mr.  Calhoun  has  de- 
voted himself  to  journalism.  Among  the  former  we  re- 
call Lieutenant  Adams,  Messrs.  Gill,  Dupries,  Clinkin- 
beard,  Steele,  Miller,  Fortune,  Rowland,  Baker,  and  Dr. 
Lewis.  These  gentlemen  were  courteous  and  intelligent, 
and  evidently  came  of  excellent  Kentucky  and  Tennessee 
families.  One  evening  several  of  these  gentlemen  had 
taken  tea  with  us,  and  after  supper  the  number  of  our 
guests  was  augmented  by  the  coming  of  Dr.  Ruth,  of 
Kentucky,  and  Dr.  H.  B.  Haynie,  surgeon  of  the  14th 
Tennessee  Cavalry.  Dr.  Haynie  was  an  elderly,  gray- 
haired man,  of  fine  presence,  and  with  the  courtly  man- 
ners of  the  old  school.  On  being  unanimously  requested, 
he  sang  us  a song  entitled : “The  Wailings  at  Fort  Dela- 
ware,” which  he  had  composed  when  an  inmate  of  that 
wretched  prison.  As  one  of  the  gentlemen  remarked, 
“there  is  more  truth  than  poetry  in  it;”  yet  there  are  in 
it  some  indications  of  poetic  genius,  and  Dr.  Haynie  sang 
it  with  fine  effect. 


74 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


“THE  WAILINGS  AT  FORT  DELAWARE.” 

By  B.  H.  Haynie,  Surgeon  14th  Tennessee  Cavalry  (Mor- 
gan's Division). 

Oh!  here  we  are  confined  at  Fort  Delaware, 

With  nothing  to  drink  but  a little  lager  beer, 

Infested  by  vermin  as  much  as  we  can  bear; 

Oh  Jeff,  can’t  you  help  us  to  get  away  from  here? 

Chorus — 

And  it’s  home,  dearest  home,  the  place  I ought  to  be, 

Home,  sweet  home,  way  down  in  Tennessee, 

Where  the  ash  and  the  oak  and  the  bonny  willow  tree, 

Are  all  growing  green  way  down  in  Tennessee. 

The  Island  itself  will  do  well  enough, 

But  the  flat-footed  Dutch  are  filthy  and  rough, 

Oh!  take  us  away  from  the  vandal  clan, 

Down  into  Dixie  among  the  gentlemen. 

Chorus — And  its  home,  dearest  home,  etc. 

Spoiled  beef  and  bad  soup  is  our  daily  fare, 

And  to  complain  is  more  than  any  dare; 

They  will  buck  us  and  gag  us,  and  cast  us  in  a cell, 

There  to  bear  the  anguish  and  torments  of  hell. 

Chorus — 

The  den  for  our  eating  is  anything  but  clean, 

And  the  filth  upon  the  tables  is  plainly  to  be  seen, 

And  the  smell  of  putrefaction  rises  on  the  air, 

“To  fill  out  the  bill”  of  our  daily  fare. 

Chorus — 

*“The  sick  are  well  treated,”  as  Southern  surgeons  say, 

“And  the  losses  by  death  are  scarcely  four  per  day;” 

It’s  diarrhoea  mixture  for  scurvey  and  small-pox. 

And  every  other  disease  of  Pandora’s  box! 


Chorus — 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


75 


Oh!  look  at  the  graveyard  on  the  Jersey  shore, 

At  the  hundreds  and  the  thousands  who'll  return  no  more; 

Oh!  could  they  come  back  to  testify 

Against  the  lying  devils,  and  live  to  see  them  die! 

Chorus — 

*“Our  kindness  to  prisoners  you  can  not  deny, 

For  we  have  the  proof  at  hand  upon  which  you  can  rely ; 

It’s  no  Dutch  falsehood,  nor  a Yankee  trick, 

But  from  Southern  surgeons  who  daily  see  the  sick.” 

Chobus — 

Our  chaplain,  whose  heart  was  filled  with  heavenly  joys, 
Asked  leave  to  pray  and  preach  to  Southern  boys ; 

“Oh,  no!”  says  the  General,  “you  are  not  the  man, 

You  are  a Southern  rebel,  the  vilest  of  your  clan!” 

Chorus — 

Oh!  speak  out,  young  soldier,  and  let  your  country  hear, 

All  about  your  treatment  at  Fort  Delaware; 

How  they  worked  you  in  their  wagons  when  weary  and  sad, 
With  only  half  rations,  when  plenty  they  had. 

Chorus — 

The  barracks  were  crowded  to  an  overflow, 

Without  a single  comfort  on  the  soldier  to  bestow; 

Oh,  there  they  stood  shivering  in  hopeless  despair, 

With  insufficient  diet  or  clothing  to  wear! 

Chorus — 

The  mother  stood  weeping  in  sorrows  of  woe, 

Mingling  her  tears  with  the  waters  that  flow; 

Her  son  was  expiring  at  Fort  Delaware, 

Which  could  have  been  avoided  with  prudence  and  care. 


Chorus — 


76 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Ok!  take  off  my  fetters  and  let  me  go  free. 

To  roam  o’er  the  mountains  of  old  Tennessee; 

To  bathe  in  her  waters  and  breathe  her  balmy  air. 

And  look  upon  her  daughters  so  lovely  and  fair. 

Chorus — 

Then,  cheer  up,  my  brave  boys,  your  country  will  be  free, 
Your  battles  will  be  fought  by  Generals  Bragg  and  Lee; 

And  the  Yankees  will  fly  with  trembling  and  fear, 

And  we’ll  return  to  our  wives  and  sweethearts  so  dear. 

Chorus — 

And  it’s  home,  dearest  home,  the  place  where  I ought  to  be. 
Home,  sweet  home  way  down  in  Tennessee, 

Where  the  ash  and  the  oak,  and  the  bonny  willow  tree, 

Are  all  growing  green  way  down  in  Tennessee. 


♦The  fifth  and  seventh  verses  are  criticisms  upon  four  Southern  surgeons, 
who  gave  the  Federal  authorities  a certificate  that  our  prisoners  were  well 
treated,  and  our  sick  well  cared  for,  and  that  the  average  loss  hy  death  was 
only  four  per  day. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


77 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THOMIE^S  SECOND  HOME  COMING. 

He  Leaves  for  “The  Front” — His  Christian  Labors  in  Camp — 
He  Describes  the  Battle  of  New  Hope  Church — The  Great 
Revival  in  Johnston's  Army. 

Earl)-  one  morning  in  the  February  of  the  winter  just 
referred  to  (that  of  1864),  as  my  sister  lay  awake,  she 
heard  some  one  step  upon  the  portico  and  knock.  As 
Toby  opened  the  door,  she  heard  him  exclaim : “Why 
howdy,  Marse  Thomie !”  Her  first  thought  was,  “now 
he  is  back  just  in  time  to  be  in  the  battle!”  for  a resump- 
tion of  hostilities  was  daily  looked  for  near  Dalton.  We 
were  all  greatly  surprised  at  Thomie’s  arrival  on  this  side 
of  the  Mississippi,  as  only  a few  days  before  we  had  re- 
ceived a letter  from  him,  written,  it  is  true,  so  long  as 
the  November  before,  saying  he  had  been  assigned  to 
duty  out  in  Texas  by  General  Henry  McCulloch.  But 
the  consolidation  of  the  regiments  in  Granbury’s  brigade 
having  been  broken  up,  he  had  been  ordered  back  to  join 
his  old  command.  He  had  left  Marshall,  Texas,  the  28th 
of  January,  having  made  the  trip  in  one  month,  and  hav- 
ing walked  four  hundred  miles  of  the  way.  Under  the 
circumstances,  we  were  both  glad  and  sorrowful  at  his  re- 
turn. After  a stay  of  three  days,  he  left  us  for  “the 
front.”  In  the  early  morning  of  February  29th,  we 
went  with  him  to  the  depot,  the  last  time  we  four  were 
ever  together.  Parting  from  him  was  a bitter  trial  to 


78 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


our  mother,  who  wept  silently  as  we  walked  back  to  the 
desolate  home,  no  longer  gladdened  by  the  sunny  pres- 
ence of  the  only  son  and  brother.  Perhaps  nothing  will 
give  a more  graphic  impression  of  some  phases  of  army 
life  at  this  time,  nor  a clearer  insight  into  our  brother’s 
character,  than  a few  extracts  from  his  letters  written  at 
this  period  to  his  sister  Missouri,  and  preserved  by  her  to 
this  day : 

“Dalton,  Ga.,  March  15th,  1864. — * * * Our  regi- 
ment takes  its  old  organization  as  the  10th  Texas,  and 
Colonel  Young  has  been  dispatched  to  Texas  to  gather  all 
the  balance,  under  an  order  from  the  war  department. 
We  are  now  in  Dalton  doing  provost  duty  (our  regi- 
ment), which  is  a very  unpleasant  duty.  It  is  my  busi- 
ness to  examine  all  papers  whenever  the  cars  arrive,  and 
it  is  very  disagreeable  to  have  to  arrest  persons  who 
haven’t  proper  papers.  The  regulations  about  the  town 
are  very  strict.  No  one  under  a brigadier-general  can 
pass  without  approval  papers.  My  guard  arrested  Gen- 
eral Johnston  himself,  day  before  yesterday.  Not  know- 
ing him  they  wouldn’t  take  his  word  for  it,  but  demanded 
his  papers.  The  old  General,  very  good-humoredly  show- 
ed them  some  orders  he  had  issued  himself,  and,  being 
satisfied,  they  let  him  pass.  He  took  it  good-humoredly, 
while  little  colonels  and  majors  become  very  indignant 
and  wrathy  under  such  circumstances.  From  which  we 
learn,  first,  the  want  of  good  common  sense,  and,  sec- 
ondly, that  a great  man  is  an  humble  man,  and  does  not 
look  with  contempt  upon  his  inferiors  in  rank,  whatso- 
ever that  rank  may  be. 

“There  is  a very  interesting  meeting  in  progress  here. 
I get  to  go  every  other  night.  I have  seen  several  bap- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


79 


tized  since  I have  been  here.  There  are  in  attendance 
every  evening  from  six  to  seven  hundred  soldiers.  There 
are  many  who  go  to  the  anxious  seat.  Three  made  a 
profession  of  religion  night  before  last.  I am  going  to- 
night. There  seems  to  be  a deep  interest  taken,  and  God 
grant  the  good  work  may  go  on  until  the  whole  army  may 
be  made  to  feel  where  they  stand  before  their  Maker. 
Write  soon.  Your  affectionate  brother, 

Tom  Stokes.” 

From  another  letter  we  take  the  following: 

“Near  Dalton,  April  5th,  1864. — We  have  had  for 
some  weeks  back  very  unsettled  weather,  which  has  ren- 
dered it  very  disagreeable,  though  we  haven’t  suffered ; 
we  have  an  old  tent  which  affords  a good  deal  of  protec- 
tion from  the  weather.  It  has  also  interfered  some  with 
our  meetings,  though  there  is  preaching  nearly  every 
night  that  there  is  not  rain.  Brother  Hughes  came  up 
and  preached  for  us  last  Friday  night  and  seemed  to 
give  general  satisfaction.  He  was  plain  and  practical, 
which  is  the  only  kind  of  preaching  that  does  good  in 
the  army.  He  promised  to  come  back  again.  I like 
him  very  much.  Another  old  brother,  named  Campbell, 
whom  I heard  when  I was  a boy,  preached  for  us  on  Sab- 
bath evening.  There  was  much  feeling,  and  at  the  close 
of  the  services  he  invited  mourners  to  the  anxious  seat, 
and  I shall  never  forget  that  blessed  half-hour  that  fol- 
lowed ; from  every  part  of  that  great  congregation  they 
came,  many  with  streaming  eyes ; and,  as  they  gave  that 
old  patriarch  their  hands,  asked  that  God’s  people  would 
pray  for  them.  Yes,  men  who  never  shrank  in  battle 
from  any  responsibility,  came  forward  weeping.  Such  is 


80 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


the  power  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ  when  preached  in  its 
purity.  Oh,  that  all  ministers  of  Christ  could,  or  would, 
realize  the  great  responsibility  resting  upon  them  as  His 
ambassadors. 

“Sabbath  night  we  had  services  again,  and  also  last 
night,  both  well  attended,  and  to-night,  weather  permit- 
ting, I will  preach.  God  help  me  and  give  me  grace  from 
on  high,  that  I may  be  enabled,  as  an  humble  instrument 
in  His  hands,  to  speak  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  for 
‘none  but  Jesus  can  do  helpless  sinners  good.’  I preached 
last  Sabbath  was  two  weeks  ago  to  a large  and  attentive 
congregation.  There  seemed  to  be  much  seriousness, 
and  although  much  embarrassed,  yet  I tried,  under  God, 
to  feel  that  I was  but  in  the  discharge  of  my  duty ; and 
may  I ever  be  found  battling  for  my  Savior.  Yes,  my 
sister,  I had  rather  be  an  humble  follower  of  Christ  than 
to  wear  the  crown  of  a monarch.  Remember  me  at  all 
times  at  a Throne  of  Grace,  that  my  life  may  be  spared 
to  become  a useful  minister  of  Christ. 

“Since  my  return  we  have  established  a prayer-meet- 
ing in  our  company,  or,  rather,  a kind  of  family  service, 
every  night  after  roll  call.  There  is  one  other  company 
which  has  prayer  every  night.  Captain  F.  is  very  zeal- 
ous. There  are  four  in  our  company  who  pray  in  public 
— one  sergeant,  a private.  Captain  F.  and  myself.  We 
take  it  time  about.  We  have  cleared  up  a space,  fixed  a 
stand  and  seats,  and  have  a regular  preaching  place.  I 
have  never  seen  such  a spirit  as  there  is  now  in  the  army. 
Religion  is  the  theme.  Everywhere,  you  hear  around  the 
campfires  at  night  the  sweet  songs  of  Zion.  This  spirit 
pervades  the  whole  army.  God  is  doing  a glorious  work, 
and  I believe  it  is  but  the  beautiful  prelude  to  peace.  I 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


81 


feel  confident  that  if  the  enemy  should  attempt  to  advance 
that  God  will  fight  our  battles  for  us,  and  the  boastful 
foe  be  scattered  and  severely  rebuked. 

“I  witnessed  a scene  the  other  evening,  which  did 
my  heart  good — the  baptism  of  three  men  in  the  creek 
near  the  encampment.  To  see  those  hardy  soldiers  tak- 
ing up  their  cross  and  following  their  Master  in  His  or- 
dinance, being  buried  with  Him  in  baptism,  was  indeed  a 
beautiful  sight.  I really  believe,  Missouri,  that  there  is 
more  religion  now  in  the  army  than  among  the  thousands 
of  skulkers,  exempts  and  speculators  at  home.  There  are 
but  few  now  but  who  will  talk  freely  with  you  upon  the 
subject  of  their  soul’s  salvation.  What  a change,  what  a 
change ! when  one  year  ago  card-playing  and  profane  lan- 
guage seemed  to  be  the  order  of  the  day.  Now,  what  is 
the  cause  of  this  change?  Manifestly  the  working  of 
God’s  spirit.  He  has  chastened  His  people,  and  this 
manifestation  of  His  love  seems  to  be  an  earnest  of  the 
good  things  in  store  for  us  in  not  a far  away  future. 
“Whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth,  and  scourgeth 
every  son  whom  He  receiveth.’  Let  all  the  people  at 
home  now,  in  unison  with  the  army,  humbly  bow,  acknow- 
ledge the  afflicting  hand  of  the  Almighty,  ask  Him  to  re- 
move the  curse  upon  His  own  terms,  and  soon  we  will 
hear,  so  far  as  our  Nation  is  concerned,  ‘Glory  to  God  in 
the  highest,  on  earth  peace,  good  will  toward  men !’ 

“I  received  the  articles  ma  sent  by  Brother  Hughes, 
which  were  much  relished  on  the  top  of  the  coarse  fare 
of  the  army.  * * * Write  me  often.  God  bless  you: 

in  your  labors  to  do  good. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

T.  J.  Stokes." 


82 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


From  another  of  those  time-stained,  but  precious  let- 
ters, we  cull  the  following,  under  the  heading  of : 

“In  Camp,  Near  Dalton,  Ga.,  April  18,  1864. — * * * 
The  good  work  still  goes  on  here.  Thirty-one  men  were 
baptized  at  the  creek  below  our  brigade  yesterday,  and 
I have  heard  from  several  other  brigades  in  which  the 
proportion  is  equally  large  (though  the  thirty-one  were 
not  all  members  of  this  brigade).  Taking  the  proportion 
in  the  whole  army  as  heard  from  (and  I have  only  heard 
from  a part  of  one  corps)  there  must  have  been  baptized 
yesterday  150  persons — maybe  200.  This  revival  spirit  Is 
not  confined  to  a part  only,  but  pervades  the  whole  army. 
* * * Brother  Hughes  was  with  us  the  other  night, 

but  left  again  the  next  morning.  The  old  man  seemed 
to  have  much  more  influence  in  the  army  than  young 
men.  I have  preached  twice  since  writing  to  you,  and 
the  Spirit  seemed  to  be  with  me.  The  second  sermon 
was  upon  the  crucifixion  of  Christ:  text  in  the  53d  chap- 
ter of  Isaiah : ‘He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions 
and  bruised  for  our  iniquities.’  It  was  the  first  time 
in  my  life,  that  is,  in  public  speaking,  that  my  feelings 
got  so  much  the  mastery  of  me  as  to  make  me  weep  like 
a child.  In  the  conclusion  I asked  all  who  felt  an  interest 
in  the  prayers  of  God’s  people  to  come  to  the  anxious 
seat.  Many  presented  themselves,  and  I could  hear  many 
among  them,  with  sobs  and  groans,  imploring  God  to 
have  mercy  upon  them ; and  I think  the  Lord  did  have 
mercy  upon  them,  for  when  we  opened  the  door  of  the 
church  six  united  with  us.  Every  Sabbath  you  may  see 
the  multitude  wending  their  way  to  the  creek  to  see  the 
solemn  ordinance  typical  of  the  death,  burial  and  resur- 
rection of  our  Savior.  Strange  to  say  that  a large  num- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


83 


ber  of  those  joining  the  pedo-Baptist  branches  prefer  be- 
ing immersed ; though  in  the  preaching  you  can  not  tell 
to  which  denomination  a man  belongs.  This  is  as  it 
should  be ; Christ  and  Him  crucified  should  be  the  theme. 
It  is  time  enough,  I think,  after  one  is  converted,  to 
choose  his  church  rule  of  faith. 

“If  this  state  of  things  should  continue  for  any  con- 
siderable length  of  time,  we  will  have  in  the  Army  of 
Tennessee  an  army  of  believers.  Does  the  history  of  fhe 
world  record  anywhere  the  like?  Even  Cromwell’s  time 
sinks  into  insignificance.  A revival  so  vast  in  its  propor- 
tions, and  under  all  the  difficulties  attending  camp  life, 
the  bad  weather  this  spring,  and  innumerable  difficulties, 
is  certainly  an  earnest  of  better,  brighter  times  not  far 
in  the  future.” 

To  the  believer  in  Jesus  we  feel  sure  that  these  ex- 
tracts concerning  this  remarkable  work  of  grace,  will 
prove  of  deep  interest ; so  we  make  no  apologies  for  quot- 
ing in  continuation  the  following  from  another  of  those 
letters  of  our  soldier  brother,  to  whom  the  conquests  of 
the  cross  were  the  sweetest  of  all  themes : 

“Near  Dalton,  April  28th,  1864. — My  Dear  Sister: 
I should  have  written  sooner  but  have  been  very  much 
engaged,  and  when  not  engaged  have  felt  more  like 
resting  than  writing,  and,  to  add  to  this,  Sister  Mary 
very  agreeably  surprised  me  by  coming  up  on  last  Satur- 
day. She  left  on  Tuesday  morning  for  home.  While 
she  was  at  Dalton,  I went  down  on  each  day  and  remain- 
ed until  evening.  I fear  ma  and  sister  are  too  much 
concerned  about  me,  and  therefore  render  themselves  un- 
happy. Would  that  they  could  trust  God  calmly  for  the 
issue.  And  I fear,  too,  that  they  deny  themselves  of 


84 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


many  comforts,  that  they  may  furnish  me  with  what  I 
could  do  (as  many  have  to  do)  without. 

******  **  * 
“The  great  unexampled  revival  is  fast  increasing  in 
interest.  I have  just  returned  from  the  creek,  where 
I saw  thirty-three  buried  with  Christ  in  baptism,  acknow- 
ledging there  before  two  thousand  persons  that  they 
were  not  ashamed  to  follow  Jesus  in  His  ordinance.  My 
soul  was  made  happy  in  witnessing  the  solemn  scene.  In 
that  vast  audience  everything  was  as  quiet  and  respectful 
as  in  a village  chapel ; and,  by  the  way,  I have  seen  village 
congregations  who  might  come  here  and  learn  to  behave. 
General  Lowry  baptized  about  thirteen  of  them  who  were 
from  his  brigade.  He  is  a Christian,  a soldier  and  a 
zealous  preacher,  and  his  influence  is  great.  It  was  truly 
a beautiful  sight  to  see  a general  baptizing  his  men.  He 
preaches  for  our  brigade  next  Sabbath.  I preached  for 
General  Polk’s  brigade  night  before  last,  and  we  had  a 
very  interesting  meeting.  They  have  just  begun  there, 
yet  I had  a congregation  of  some  400.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  services,  I invited  those  who  desired  an  interest  in 
our  prayers  to  manifest  their  desire  by  coming  to  the 
altar.  A goodly  number  presented  themselves,  and  we 
prayed  with  them.  I shall  preach  for  them  again  very 
soon.  The  revival  in  our  brigade  has  continued  now  For 
four  weeks,  nearly,  and  many  have  found  peace  with  their 
Savior.  If  we  could  remain  stationary  a few  weeks  lon- 
ger, I believe  the  greater  portion  of  the  army  would  be 
converted.  This  is  all  the  doings  of  the  Lord,  and  is 
surely  the  earnest  of  the  great  deliverance  in  store  for 
us.  It  is  the  belief  of  many,  that  this  is  the  ‘beginning  of 
the  end.’  From  all  parts  of  the  army  the  glad  tidings 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


85 


come  that  a great  revival  is  in  progress.  I wish  I had 
time  to  write  to  you  at  length.  One  instance  of  the 
power  of  His  spirit:  A lieutenant  of  our  regiment,  and 
heretofore  very  wild,  became  interested,  and  for  nearly 
three  weeks  seemed  groaning  in  agony.  The  other  day 
he  came  around  to  see  me,  and,  with  a face  beaming  with 
love,  told  me  he  had  found  Christ,  and  that  his  only  re- 
gret now  was  that  he  had  not  been  a Christian  all  his  life. 
It  is  growing  dark.  I must  close.  More  anon. 

Affectionately, 

Your  Brother.” 

We  take  up  the  next  letter  in  the  order  of  time.  It 
is  numbered  25.  The  envelope  is  of  brown  wrapping 
paper,  but  neatly  made,  and  has  a blue  Confederate  10 
cent  postage  stamp.  It  is  addressed  to  my  sister,  who 
was  then  teaching  at  Corinth,  Heard  County,  Georgia. 
It  is  dated : 

“Near  Dalton,  May  5th,  1864.”  After  speaking  of 
having  to  take  charge  early  the  next  morning  of  the 
brigade  picket  guard,  Thomie  goes  on  to  say : 

“The  sun’s  most  down,  but  I think  I can  fill  these 
little  pages  before  dark.  Captain  F.,  coming  in  at  this 
time,  tells  me  a dispatch  has  just  been  received  to  the 
effect  that  the  Yankees  are  advancing  in  the  direction  of 
Tunnel  Hill,  but  they  have  made  so  many  feints  in  that 
direction  lately  that  we  have  become  used  to  them,  so 
don’t  become  uneasy. 

“The  great  revival  is  going  on  with  widening  and 
deepening  interest.  Last  Sabbath  I saw  eighty-three  im- 
mersed at  the  creek  below  our  brigade.  Four  were 
sprinkled  at  the  stand  before  going  down  to  the  creek, 


86 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


and  two  down  there  making  an  aggregate  within  this  vi- 
cinity of  eighty-nine,  while  the  same  proportion,  I sup- 
pose, are  turning  to  God  in  other  parts  of  the  army,  mak- 
ing the  grand  aggregate  of  many  hundreds.  Yesterday 
I saw  sixty-five  more  baptized,  forty  more  who  were  to 
have  been  there  failing  to  come  because  of  an  order  to  be 
ready  to  move  at  any  moment.  They  belong  to  a more 
distant  brigade.  * * If  we  do  not  move  before  Mon- 

day, Sabbath  will  be  a day  long  to  be  remembered — ‘the 
water  will,’  indeed,  ‘be  troubled.’  Should  we  remain 
three  weeks  longer,  the  glad  tidings  may  go  forth  that 
the  Army  of  Tennessee  is  the  army  of  the  Lord.  But  He 
knoweth  best  what  is  for  our  good,  and  if  He  sees  proper 
can  so  order  His  providence  as  to  keep  us  here.  His 
will  be  done.” 

The  next  letter  is  addressedTo  me,  but  was  sent  to  my 
sister  at  my  request,  and  is  dated  “Allatoona  Mountains, 
Near  Night,  May  22nd.”  He  writes : 

“Oh,  it  grieved  my  very  soul  when  coming  through  the 
beautiful  Oothcaloga  valley,  to  think  of  the  sad  fate 
which  awaited  it  when  the  foul  invader  should  occupy 
that  ‘vale  of  beauty.’  We  formed  the  line  of  battle  at  the 
creek,  at  the  old  Eads  place ; our  brigade  was  to  the  left 
as  you  go  up  to  Mr.  Law’s  old  place  on  the  hill,  where 
we  stayed  once  when  pa  was  sick.  Right  here,  with  a 
thousand  dear  recollections  of  bv-gone  days  crowding  my 
mind,  in  the  valley  of  my  boyhood,  I felt  as  if  I could 
hurl  a host  back.  We  fought  them  and  whipped  them, 
until,  being  flanked,  we  were  compelled  to  fall  back.  We 
fought  them  again  at  Cass  Station,  driving  them  in  our 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


87 

front,  but,  as  before,  and  for  the  same  reason,  we  were 
compelled  to  retreat. 

* * * * *:t:  ^ 

“As  I am  requested  to  hold  prayer-meeting  this  even- 
ing at  sunset,  I must  close.’’ 

Thomie’s  next  letter  in  this  collection  is  addressed  to 
his  sister  Missouri,  who  had  returned  home,  and  is  head- 
ed, simply,  “Army  of  Tennessee,  May  31st.”  It  is  writ- 
ten in  a round,  legible,  but  somewhat  delicate  hand,  and 
gives  no  evidence  of  nervousness  or  hurry.  To  those 
fond  of  war  history,  it  will  be  of  special  interest : 

“Our  brigade,  in  fact  our  division,  is  in  a more  quiet 
place  now  than  since  the  commencement  of  this  cam- 
paign. We  were  ordered  from  the  battlefield  on  Sunday 
morning  to  go  and  take  position  in  supporting  distance  of 
the  left  wing  of  the  army,  where  we  arrived  about  the 
middle  of  the  forenoon,  and  remained  there  until  yester- 
day evening,  when  our  division  was  ordered  back  in  rear 
of  the  left  centre,  where  we  are  now.  Contrary  to  all 
expectations,  we  have  remained  here  perfectly  quiet, 
there  being  no  heavy  demonstration  by  the  enemy  on 
either  wing.  We  were  very  tired,  and  this  rest  has  been 
a great  help  to  us ; for  being  a reserve  and  flanking  divis- 
ion, we  have  had  to  trot  from  one  end  of  the  wing  of  the 
army  to  the  other,  and  support  other  troops. 

“Well,  perhaps  you  would  like  to  hear  something  from 
me  of  the  battle  of  New  Hope  Church,  on  Friday  evening, 
27th  inst.  We  had  been,  since  the  day  before,  support- 
ing some  other  troops  about  the  centre  of  the  right  wing, 
when,  I suppose  about  2 o’clock,  we  were  hurried  off  to 
the  extreme  right  to  meet  a heavy  force  of  the  enemy 


88 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


trying  to  turn  our  right.  A few  minutes  later  the  whole 
army  might  now  have  been  in  the  vicinity  of  Atlanta,  but, 
as  it  was,  we  arrived  in  the  nick  of  time,  for  before  we 
were  properly  formed  the  enemy  were  firing  into  us  rapid- 
ly. We  fronted  to  them,  however,  and  then  commenced 
one  of  the  hottest  engagements,  so  far,  of  this  campaign. 
We  had  no  support,  and  just  one  single  line  against  a 
whole  corps  of  the  enemy,  and  a lieutenant  of  the  19th 
Arkansas,  wounded  and  captured  by  them,  and  subse- 
quently retaken  by  our  brigade,  stated  that  another  corps 
of  the  enemy  came  up  about  sundown.  The  fighting 
of  our  men,  to  those  who  admire  warfare,  was  magnifi- 
cent. You  could  see  a pleasant  smile  playing  upon  the 
countenances  of  many  of  the  men,  as  they  would  cry  out 
to  the  Yankees,  ‘Come  on,  we  are  demoralized!’ 

“One  little  incident  right  here,  so  characteristic  of 
the  man.  Major  Kennard  (of  whom  I have  told  you 
often,  lately  promoted),  was,  as  usual,  encouraging  the 
men  by  his  battle-cry  of,  ‘Put  your  trust  in  God,  men,  for 
He  is  with  us,’  but  concluding  to  talk  to  the  Yankees 
awhile,  sang  out  to  them,  ‘Come  on,  we  are  demoral- 
ized,’ when  the  Major  was  pretty  severely  wounded  in 
the  head,  though  not  seriously;  raising  himself  up,  he 
said : 

“ ‘Boys,  I told  them  a lie,  and  I believe  that  is  the 
reason  I got  shot.’ 

“The  fighting  was  very  close  and  desperate,  and 
lasted  until  after  dark.  About  11  o’clock  at  night,  three 
regiments  of  our  brigade  charged  the  enemy,  our  regi- 
ment among  them.  We  went  over  ravines,  rocks,  almost 
precipices,  running  the  enemy  entirely  off  the  field.  We 
captured  many  prisoners,  and  all  of  their  dead  and  many 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


89 


of  their  wounded  fell  into  our  hands.  This  charge  was 
a desperate  and  reckless  thing,  and  if  the  enemy  had 
made  any  resistance  they  could  have  cut  us  all  to  pieces. 
I hurt  my  leg  slightly  in  falling  down  a cliff  of  rocks, 
and  when  we  started  back  to  our  original  line  of  battle 
I thought  I would  go  back  alone  and  pick  my  way ; 
so  I bore  off  to  the  left,  got  lost,  and  completely  be- 
wildered between  two  armies.  I copy  from  my  journal: 

“ ‘Here  I was,  alone  in  the  darkness  of  midnight,  with 
the  wounded,  the  dying,  the  dead.  What  an  hour  of 
horror ! I hope  never  again  to  experience  such.  I am 
not  supertitious,  but  the  great  excitement  of  seven  hours 
of  fierce  conflict,  ending  with  a bold,  and  I might  say, 
reckless,  charge — for  we  knew  not  what  was  in  our 
front — and  then  left  entirely  alone,  causes  a mental  and 
physical  depression  that  for  one  to  fully  appreciate  he 
must  be  surrounded  by  the  same  circumstances.  My 
feelings  in  battle  were  nothing  to  compare  to  this  hour. 
After  going  first  one  way  and  then  another,  and  not 
bettering  my  case,  I heard  some  one  slipping  along  in  the 
bushes.  I commanded  him  to  halt,  and  inquired  what 
regiment  he  belonged  to,  and  was  answered,  ‘15th  Wis- 
consin,’ so  I took  Mr.  Wisconsin  in,  and  ordered  him 
to  march  before  me — a nice  pickle  for  me  then,  had  a 
prisoner  and  did  not  know  where  to  go.  Moved  on, 
however,  and  finally  heard  some  more  men  walking, 
hailed  them,  for  I had  become  desperate,  and  was  ans- 
wered, ‘Mississippians.’  Oh,  how  glad  I was ! The 
moon  at  this  time  was  just  rising,  and,  casting  her  pale 
silvery  rays  through  the  dense  woods,  made  every  tree 
and  shrub  look  like  a spectre.  I saw  a tall,  muscular 
Federal  lying  dead  and  the  moonlight  shining  in  his 


90 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


face.  His  eyes  were  open  and  seemed  to  be  riveted  on 
me.  I could  not  help  but  shudder.  I soon  found  my 
regiment,  and  ‘Richard  was  himself  again.’ 

“I  went  out  again  to  see  if  I could  do  anything  for 
their  wounded.  Soon  found  one  with  his  leg  shot 
through,  whom  I told  we  would  take  care  of.  Another, 
shot  in  the  head,  was  crying  out  continually,  ‘Oh,  my 
God ! oh,  my  God ! !’  I asked  him  if  we  could  do  any- 
thing for  him,  but  he  replied  that  it  would  be  of  no 
use.  I told  him  God  would  have  mercy  upon  him,  but 
his  mind  seemed  to  be  wandering.  I could  not  have  him 
taken  care  of  that  night,  and,  poor  fellow,  there  he  lay 
all  night. 

“The  next  morning  I had  the  privilege  of  walking 
over  the  whole  ground,  and  such  a scene ! Here  lay  the 
wounded,  the  dying,  and  the  dead,  hundreds  upon  hun- 
dreds, in  every  conceivable  position ; some  with  contorted 
features,  showing  the  agony  of  death,  others  as  if  quietly 
sleeping.  I noticed  some  soft  beardless  faces  which  ill 
comported  with  the  savage  warfare  in  which  they  had 
been  engaged.  Hundreds  of  letters  from  mothers,  sis- 
ters, and  friends  were  found  upon  them,  and  ambrotypes, 
taken  singly  and  in  groups.  Though  they  had  been  my 
enemies,  my  heart  bled  at  the  sickening  scene.  The 
wounded  nearly  all  expressed  themselves  tired  of  the 
war. 

“For  the  numbers  engaged  upon  our  side,  it  is  said 
to  be  the  greatest  slaughter  of  the  enemy  of  any  recent 
battle.  Captain  Hearne,  the  old  adjutant  of  our  regi- 
ment, was  killed.  Eight  of  our  regiment  were  instantly 
killed ; two  mortally  wounded,  since  dead. 

“I  did  not  think  of  writing  so  much  when  I began, 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


91 


but  it  is  the  first  opportunity  of  writing  anything  like 
a letter  that  I have  had.  Lieutenant  McMurray  is  now 
in  charge  of  the  Texas  hospital  at  Auburn,  Alabama. 

* * * * * * 

“Well,  you  are  now  Aunt  Missouri.  Oh,  that  I 
could  see  my  boy ! Heaven  has  protected  me  thus  far 
and  I hope  that  God  will  consider  me  through  this 
dreadful  ordeal,  and  protect  me  for  Christ’s  sake ; not 
that  there  is  any  merit  that  I can  offer,  but  I do  hope 
to  live  that  I may  be  an  humble  instrument  in  the  hands 
of  my  God  to  lead  others  to  Him.  I hold  prayer  in  our 
company  nearly  every  night  when  circumstances  will 
permit,  and  the  men  don’t  go  to  sleep  before  we  are 
quiet.  Poor  fellows,  they  are  ever  willing  to  join  me, 
but  often  are  so  wearied  I dislike  to  interrupt  them. 

“My  sister,  let  our  trust  be  confidently  in  God.  He 
can  save  or  He  can  destroy.  Let  us  pray  Him  for  peace. 
He  can  give  it  us ; not  pray  as  if  we  were  making  an 
experiment,  but  pray  believing  God  will  answer  our 
prayers,  for  we  have  much  to  pray  for.” 

My  sister  subsequently  copied  into  her  journal  the 
following  extract,  taken  from  his,  and  written  soon  after 
the  battle  of  New  Hope  Church : 

“May  31st,  1864. — Here  we  rest  by  a little  murmuring 
brook,  singing  along  as  if  the  whole  world  was  at  peace 
I lay  down  last  night  and  gazed  away  up  in  the  peace- 
ful heavens.  All  was  quiet  and  serene  up  there,  and  the 
stars  seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  in  brightness  and 
were  fulfilling  their  allotted  destiny.  My  comrades  all 
asleep ; nothing  breaks  the  silence.  I leave  earth  for  a 
time,  and  soar  upon  ‘imagination’s  wings’  far  away  from 


92 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


this  war-accursed  land  to  where  bright  angels  sing  their 
everlasting  songs  of  peace  and  strike  their  harps  along 
the  golden  streets  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  and  the  swell- 
ing music  bursts  with  sweet  accord  throughout  vast 
Heaven’s  eternal  space  !” 

****** 

Again  on  Sabbath,  June  5th,  he  writes:  “No  music 
of  church  bells  is  heard  to-day  summoning  God’s  people 
to  worship  where  the  gospel  is  wont  to  be  heard.  We 
are  near  a large  log  church  called  Gilgal.  What  a dif- 
ferent scene  is  presented  to-day  from  a Sabbath  four 
years  ago  when  the  aged  minister  of  God  read  to  a large 
and  attentive  congregation : “The  Lord  is  my  shepherd, 
I shall  not  want.  He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green 
pastures,  He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters.”  O. 
God,  wilt  thou  not  interpose  Thy  strong  arm  to  stop  the 
bloody  strife?  Wilt  Thou  not  hear  the  prayers  of  Thy 
people  who  daily  say,  Lord,  give  us  peace?  The  Lord 
will  answer,  and  soon  white-robed  peace  will  smile  upon 
our  unhappy  country.  O God,  hasten  the  day,  for  we 
are  sorely  vexed,  and  thine  shall  be  all  the  glory.” 

Ere  peace  was  to  dawn  upon  his  beloved  country,  his 
own  soul  was  to  find  it  through  the  portals  of  death ; 
but  ere  that  time,  save  a brief  interval  of  enforced  rest, 
weary  marchings  and  heart-breaking  scenes  and  sor- 
rows were  to  intervene. 

Thomie’s  next  letter  is  dated  “In  the  Field,  near  Lost 
Mountain,  June  14th,”  and  the  next  “In  the  Ditches, 
June  22nd,  1864.”  The  next,  “Near  Chattahoochee 
River,  July  6th,  1864,”  tells  of  the  retreat  of  the  army 
from  Kennesaw  Mountain  to  Smyrna  Church,  and  of  his 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


93 


coming  off  safely  from  another  “small  fight”  the  day  be- 
fore, in  which  several  of  his  comrades  were  killed. 

Owing  to  nervous  prostration,  and  other  illness, 
Thomie  was  soon  after  sent  to  the  hospital  at  Macon, 
transferred  from  there  to  Augusta,  and  from  the  latter 
point  given  leave  of  absence  to  visit  his  sister,  who  had 
found  refuge  with  her  cousin,  Mrs.  T.  J.  Hillsman,  a 
daughter  of  Rev.  Wm.  H.  Stokes  of  blessed  memory. 
Here,  with  his  father’s  kindred,  cheered  by  beautiful  hos- 
pitality and  cousinly  affection,  our  darling  brother  en- 
joyed the  last  sweet  rest  and  quiet  earth  was  e’er  to  give 
him  before  he  slept  beneath  its  sod. 


94 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  X. 

A visit  to  Dalton — The  fidelity  of  an  old-time  slave. 

“From  Atlanta  to  Dalton,  $7.75.  From  the  23d  to  the 
26th  of  April,  1864,  to  Mrs.  John  Reynolds,  for  board, 
$20.00.  From  Dalton  to  Decatur,  $8.00.” 

The  above  statement  of  the  expense  attending  a round 
trip  to  Dalton,  Georgia,  is  an  excerpt  from  a book  which 
contains  a record  of  every  item  of  my  expenditures  for 
the  year  1864. 

This  trip  was  takn  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  pro- 
visions and  articles  of  clothing  to  my  brother  and  his 
comrades  in  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston’s  command.  In 
vain  had  our  mother  tried  to  send  appetizing  baskets  of 
food  to  her  son,  whose  soldier  rations  consisted  of  salty 
bacon  and  hard  tack;  some  disaster,  real  or  imaginary, 
always  occurred  to  prevent  them  from  reaching  their 
destination,  and  it  was,  therefore,  determined  at  home 
that  I should  carry  the  next  consignment. 

After  several  days’  preparation,  jugs  were  filled  with 
good  sorghum  syrup,  and  baskets  with  bread,  pies,  cakes 
and  other  edibles  at  our  command,  and  sacks  of  potatoes, 
onions  and  peppers  were  included.  My  fond  and  loving 
mother  and  I,  and  our  faithful  aid-de-camps  of  African 
descent,  conveyed  them  to  the  depot.  In  those  days  the 
depot  was  a favorite  resort  with  the  ladies  and  children 
of  Decatur.  There  they  always  heard  something  from  the 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


95 


front — wherever  that  might  be.  The  obliging  agent  had 
a way,  all  his  own,  of  acquiring  information  from  the 
army  in  all  its  varied  commands,  and  dealt  it  out  galore 
to  the  encouragement  or  discouragement  of  his  auditors, 
as  his  prejudices  or  partialities  prompted.  On  this  oc- 
casion many  had  gone  there,  who,  like  myself,  were  going 
to  take  the  train  for  Atlanta,  and  in  the  interim  were 
eager  to  hear  everything  of  a hopeful  character,  even 
though  reason  urged  that  it  was  hoping  against  hope. 

I was  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  as  I was  going  to 
‘‘the  front”;  and  every  mother  who  had  a darling  son 
in  that  branch  of  the  army  hoped  that  he  would  be  the 
first  to  greet  me  on  my  arrival  there,  and  give  me  a 
message  for  her.  And  I am  sure,  if  the  love  consigned 
to  me  for  transmission  could  have  assumed  tangible 
form  and  weight,  it  would  have  been  more  than  four- 
teen tons  to  the  square  inch. 

Helpful,  willing  hands  deposited  with  care  my  well- 
labeled  jugs,  baskets,  etc.,  and  I deposited  myself  with 
equal  care  in  an  already  well-filled  coach  on  the  Georgia 
Railroad.  Arrived  in  Atlanta  I surreptitiously  stowed 
the  jugs  in  the  car  with  me,  and  then  asked  the  baggage- 
master  to  transfer  the  provisions  to  a Dalton  freight 
train.  Without  seeming  to  do  so,  I watched  his  every 
movement  until  I saw  the  last  article  safely  placed  in 
the  car,  and'  then  I went  aboard  myself.  Surrounded 
by  jugs  and  packages,  I again  became  an  object  of  inter- 
est, and  soon  found  myself  on  familiar  terms  with  all 
on  board;  for  were  we  not  friends  and  kindred  bound 
to  each  other  by  the  closest  ties?  Every  age  and  con- 
dition of  Southern  life  was  represented  in  that  long 
train  of  living,  anxious  freight.  Young  wives,  with  wee 


96 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


bit  tots  chaperoned  by  their  mothers  and  sometimes  by 
their  grand-mothers,  were  going  to  see  their  husbands, 
for,  perhaps,  the  last  time  on  earth ; and  mothers,  feeling 
that  another  fond  embrace  of  their  sons  would  palliate 
the  sting  of  final  separation.  The  poor  man  and  the  rich 
man,  fathers  alike  of  men  fighting  the  same  battles  in 
defense  of  the  grandest  principle  that  ever  inspired  mor- 
tal man  to  combat,  on  their  way  to  see  those  men  and 
leave  their  benedictions  with  them ; and  sisters,  solitary 
and  alone,  going  to  see  their  beloved  brothers  and  as- 
sure them  once  more  of  the  purest  and  most  disin- 
terested love  that  ever  found  lodgment  in  the  human 
heart.  Many  and  pleasant  were  the  brief  conversations 
between  those  dissimilar  in  manners,  habits  and  condi- 
tions in  life;  the  great  bond  connecting  them  rendered 
every  other  consideration  subordinate,  and  the  rich  and 
poor,  the  educated  and  ignorant,  met  and  mingled  in 
harmonious  intercourse. 

Those  were  days  of  slow  travel  in  the  South.  The 
roads  were  literally  blockaded  with  chartered  cars,  which 
contained  the  household  goods  of  refugees  who  had  fled 
from  the  wrath  and  vandalism  of  the  enemy,  and  not 
unfrequently  refugees  themselves  inhabited  cars  that 
seemed  in  fearful  proximity  to  danger.  Ample  oppor- 
tunity of  observation  on  either  side  was  furnished  by 
this  slow  travel,  and  never  did  the  fine,  arable  lands 
bordering  the  Western  & Atlantic  road  from  the  Chatta- 
hoochee River  to  Dalton  give  greater  promises  of  cereals, 
and  trees  in  large  variety  were  literally  abloom  with 
embryo  fruit.  Alas ! that  such  a land  should  be  des- 
tined to  fall  into  the  hands  of  despoilers. 

At  Dalton  I went  immediately  to  the  agent  at  the 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


97 


depot,  whom  I found  to  be  my  old  friend,  John  Rey- 
nolds, for  the  purpose  of  getting  information  regarding 
boarding  houses.  He  told  me  his  wife  was  in  that  line 
and  would  accommodate  me,  and,  to  render  the  applica- 
tion more  easy,  he  gave  me  a note  of  introduction  to 
her. 

A beautiful,  well-furnished  room  was  given  me,  and 
a luscious  supper  possessed  exhilarating  properties. 

In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Reynolds  had,  at  my  request, 
notified  my  brother,  whom  he  knew,  of  my  presence  in 
his  house,  and  I awaited  his  coming  anxiously ; but  I 
was  disappointed.  A soldier’s  time  is  not  his  own,  even 
in  seasons  of  tranquility,  and  he  was  on  duty  and  could 
not  come  then,  but  he  assured  me  on  a small  scrap  of 
paper,  torn  from  his  note-book,  that  he  would  come  as 
soon  as  he  could  get  off  “to-morrow  morning.” 

The  waiting  seemed  very  long,  and  yet  it  had  its 
ending.  The  night  was  succeeded  by  a typical  April  day, 
replete  with  sunshine  and  shower,  and  the  hopes  and 
fears  of  a people  struggling  for  right  over  wrong. 

At  length  the  cheery  voice  of  him  who  always  had  a 
pleasant  word  for  every  one,  greeted  me,  and  I hastened 
to  meet  him.  That  we  might  be  quiet  and  undisturbed, 
I conducted  him  to  my  room,  and  a long  and  pleasant 
conversation  ensued.  I wish  I had  time  and  space  to 
recapitulate  the  conversation ; for  its  every  word  and  in- 
tonation are  preserved  in  the  archives  of  memory,  and 
will  enter  the  grand  eternities  with  me  as  free  from  dis- 
cord as  when  first  uttered.  Our  mother’s  failing  health 
gave  him  concern,  but  his  firm  reliance  in  Him  who 
doeth  all  things  well,  quieted  his  sad  forebodings  and 
led  the  way  to  pleasanter  themes. 


98 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


He  loved  to  dwell  upon  the  quaint  and  innocent  pe- 
culiarities of  his  younger  sister,  and,  as  for  his  older  one, 
it  was  very  evident  that  he  regarded  her  fully  strong 
enough  to  “tote  her  own  skillet,”  and  “paddle  her  own 
canoe.”  A rap  upon  the  door  indicated  that  some  one 
wished  to  see  either  one  or  the  other  of  us.  I responded, 
and  was  met  by  a negro  boy  bearing  a huge  waiter,  evi- 
dently well-filled,  and  covered  over  with  a snow-white 
cloth.  The  aroma  from  that  waiter  would  have  made 
a mummy  smile.  I had  it  put  upon  a table,  and  then 
I removed  the  cover,  and  saw  with  gratification  the 
squab  pie  which  I had  ordered  for  dear  Thomie,  and 
a greater  gratification  awaited  me,  i.  e.,  seeing  him  eat 
it  with  a relish.  Nor  was  the  pie  the  only  luxury  in  that 
waiter.  Fresh  butter  and  buttermilk,  and  a pone  of 
good  corn  bread,  etc.,  supplemented  by  baked  apples 
and  cream  sugar. 

“Come,  dear  Thomie,  and  let  us  eat  together  once 
more,”  was  my  invitation  to  that  dinner,  and  radiant 
with  thanks  he  took  the  seat  I offered  him.  I did  not 
have  the  Christian  courage  to  ask  him  to  invoke  a bless- 
ing upon  this  excellent  food,  but  I saw  that  one  was  asked 
in  silence,  nevertheless,  and  I am  sure  that  an  invoca- 
tion went  up  from  my  own  heart  none  the  less  sin- 
cere. 

“Sister,  I appreciate  this  compliment,”  he  said. 

“I  could  do  nothing  that  would  compliment  you, 
Thomie,”  I answered,  and  added,  “I  hope  you  will  en- 
joy your  dinner  as  a love-offering  from  me.” 

We  lingered  long  around  that  little  table,  and  many 
topics  were  touched  upon  during  that  period. 

After  dinner  I asked  Thomie  to  lie  down  and  rest 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


99 


awhile.  He  thanked  me,  and  said  that  the  bed  would 
tempt  an  anchorite  to  peaceful  slumber,  and  he  could 
not  resist  its  wooings.  A few  minutes  after  he  lay 
down  he  was  sound  asleep.  He  slept  as  a child — calm 
and  peaceful.  That  a fly  might  not  disturb  him,  I im- 
provised a brush — my  handkerchief  and  a tender  twig 
from  a tree  near  by  being  the  component  parts.  As  I 
sat  by  him  and  studied  his  manly  young  face,  and  read 
its  expression  of  good  will  to  all  mankind,  I wept  to 
think  that  God  had  possibly  required  him  as  our  sac- 
rifice upon  the  altar  of  our  country. 

The  slanting  rays  of  the  western  sun  fell  full  and 
radiant  upon  his  placid  face,  and  awakened  him  from 
this  long  and  quiet  slumber.  With  a smile  he  arose  and 
said : 

“This  won’t  do  for  me.” 

Hasty  good-byes  and  a fervent  “God  bless  you”  were 
uttered,  and  another  one  of  the  few  partings  that  re- 
mained to  be  taken  took  place  between  the  soldier  and 
his  sister. 

* * * * * * 

The  day  was  bright  and  exhilarating,  in  the  month 
of  June,  1864.  Gay,  laughing  Flora  had  tripped  over 
woodland  and  lawn  and  scattered  with  prodigal  hands 
flowers  of  every  hue  and  fragrance,  and  the  balmy  at- 
mosphere of  early  summer  was  redolent  with  their  sweet 
perfume;  and  all  nature,  animate  and  inanimate,  seemed 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  adoration  towards  the  Giver 
of  these  perfect  works.  Although  many  hearts  had  been 
saddened  by  the  mighty  conflict  being  waged  for  the 
supremacy  of  Constitutional  rights,  there  were  yet  in 
Decatur  a large  number  to  whom  personal  sorrow  for 


100 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


personal  bereavement  had  not  come,  and  they  were  in 
sympathy  with  this  beautiful  scene,  whose  brilliant  tints 
were  but  the  reflection  of  divine  glory,  and  whose  faintest 
odor  was  distilled  in  the  alchemy  of  heaven. 

I was  contemplating  this  scene  in  grateful  admira- 
tion, and  blended  with  my  thoughts  came  the  memory 
of  my  brother,  who  was  in  the  foremost  ranks  of  the 
contest.  He,  too,  loved  the  beautiful  and  the  good,  and 
“looked  from  nature  up  to  nature’s  God.”  All  uncon- 
sciously I found  myself  plucking  his  favorite  flowers, 
and  arranging  a choice  bouquet,  a spirit-offering  to  him 
who  might  even  then  be  hovering  over  me  and  preparing 
my  mind  for  the  sad  denouement.  With  these  reflec- 
tions, I ascended  the  steps  of  my  cottage  home,  and 
turned  to  take  another  look  upon  the  enchanting  scene, 
when  I saw,  approaching,  one  of  my  mother’s  faithful 
servants,  who  was  hired  to  Dr.  Taylor,  a well-known 
druggist  of  Atlanta.  Ever  apprehensive  of  evil  tidings 
from  “the  front,”  and  “the  front”  being  the  portion  of 
the  army  that  embraced  my  brother,  I was  almost  par- 
alyzed. I stood  as  if  riveted  to  the  floor,  and  awaited  de- 
velopments. King,  for  that  was  the  name  of  the  ebony- 
hued  and  faithful  servant  whose  unexpected  appearance 
had  caused  such  a heart-flutter,  came  nearer  and  nearer. 
On  his  approach  I asked  in  husky  voice,  “Have  you  heard 
anything  from  your  Marse  Thomie,  King?” 

“No,  ma’am;  have  you?” 

The  light  of  heaven  seemed  to  dispel  the  dark  clouds 
which  had  gathered  over  and  around  my  horizon,  and  I 
remembered  my  duty  to  one,  who,  though  in  a menial 
position,  had  doubtless  come  on  some  kind  errand. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


101 


“Come  in,  King,  and  sit  down  and  rest  yourself,”  I 
said,  pointing  to  an  easy  chair  on  the  portico. 

“I  am  not  tired,  Miss  Mary,  and  would  rather  stand,” 
he  replied. 

And  he  did  stand,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand ; and  7 
thought  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  probably,  that  he 
evinced  a true  manhood,  worthy  of  Caucasian  lineage ; 
not  that  there  was  a drop  of  Caucasian  blood  in  his  veins, 
for  he  was  a perfect  specimen  of  the  African  race  and 
as  black  as  Erebus. 

The  suspense  was  becoming  painful,  when  it  was 
broken  by  King  asking : 

“Miss  Mary,  is  Miss  Polly  at  home?” 

“Yes,  King,  and  I will  tell  her  you  are  here”. 

“Miss  Polly,”  my  mother  and  King’s  mistress,  soon 
appeared  and  gave  him  a genuine  welcome. 

King  now  lost  no  time  in  making  known  the  object 
of  his  visit,  and  thus  announced  it : 

“Miss  Polly,  don't  you  want  to  sell  me?” 

“No;  why  do  you  ask?” 

“Because,  Miss  Polly,  Mr.  Johnson  wants  to  buy  me, 
and  he  got  me  to  come  to  see  you  and  ask  you  if  you 
would  sell  me.” 

“Do  you  want  me  to  sell  you,  King?  Would  you 
rather  belong  to  Mr.  Johnson  than  me?” 

“Now,  Miss  Polly,  you  come  to  the  point,  and  I 
am  going  to  try  to  answer  it.  I love  you,  and  you 
have  always  been  a good  mistress  to  us  all,  and  I don’t 
think  there  is  one  of  us  that  would  rather  belong  to 
some  one  else ; but  I tell  you  how  it  is,  Miss  Polly, 
and  you  mus’n’t  get  mad  with  me  for  saying  it ; when 
this  war  is  over  none  of  us  are  going  to  belong  to  you. 


102 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


We’ll  all  be  free,  and  I would  a great  deal  rather  Mr. 
Johnson  would  lose  me  than  you.  He  is  always  brag- 
ging about  what  he  will  do ; hear  him  talk,  you  would 
think  he  was  a bigger  man  that  Mr.  Lincoln  is,  and  had 
more  to  back  him;  but  I think  he’s  a mightly  little  man 
myself,  and  I want  him  to  lose  me.  He  says  he’ll  give 
you  his  little  old  store  on  Peachtree  street  for  me.  It 
don’t  mean  much,  I know,  but,  much  or  little,  it’s  going 
to  be  more  than  me  after  the  war.” 

And  thus  this  unlettered  man,  who  in  the  ordinary 
acceptation  of  the  term  had  never  known  what  it  was 
to  be  free,  argued  with  his  mistress  the  importance  of  the 
exchange  of  property  of  which  he  himself  was  a part, 
for  her  benefit  and  that  of  her  children. 

“Remember,  Miss  Polly,”  he  said,  “that  when  Marse 
Thomie  comes  out  of  the  war,  it  will  be  mighty  nice 
for  him  to  have  a store  of  his  own  to  commence  busi- 
ness in,  and  if  I was  in  your  place  I would  take  it  for  me, 
for  I tell  you  again,  Miss  Polly,  when  the  war’s  over  we’ll 
all  be  free.” 

But  the  good  mistress,  who  had  listened  in  silence 
to  these  arguments,  was  unmoved.  She  saw  before  her 
a man  who  had  been  born  a slave  in  her  family,  and 
who  had  grown  to  man’s  estate  under  the  fostering  care 
of  slavery,  whose  high  sense  of  honor  and  gratitude 
constrained  him  to  give  advice  intelligently,  which,  if 
followed,  would  rescue  her  and  her  children  from  im- 
pending adversity ; but  she  determined  not  to  take  it.  She 
preferred  rather  to  trust  their  future  well-being  into 
the  hands  of  Providence.  Her  beautiful  faith  found  ex- 
pression in  this  consoling  passage  of  Scripture:  “The 
Lord  is  my  shepherd,  I shall  not  want.”  And  this  blessed 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


103 


assurance  must  have  determined  her  to  pursue  the  course 
she  did,  else  it  would  have  been  reckless  and  improvi- 
dent. She  told  King  that  when  our  people  became  con- 
vinced that  the  troubles  between  the  South  and  North 
had  to  be  settled  by  the  sword,  that  she,  in  common  with 
all  good  citizens,  staked  her  all  upon  the  issues  of  the 
war,  and  that  she  would  not  now,  like  a coward,  flee  from 
them,  or  seek  to  avert  them  by  selling  a man,  or  men  and 
women  who  had  endeared  themselves  to  her  by  service 
and  fidlity. 


104 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A PERILOUS  TRUST. 

“It  is  most  time  to  go  to  the  post-office,  ain’t  it,  Miss 
Mary?  We  are  going  to  get  a letter  from  Marse  Thomie 
this  morning.” 

“What  makes  you  so  certain  of  it,  Toby?” 

“I  don’t  know’m,  but  I am;  and  every  time  I feels 
this  way,  I gets  one;  so  I’ll  just  take  my  two  little 
black  calves  and  trot  off  to  the  office  and  get  it” ; and 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  struck  a pretty  brisk 
gait  and  was  soon  around  the  corner  and  out  of  sight. 

Then  Decatur  received  but  two  mails  per  day — one 
from  an  easterly  direction  and  the  other  from  a westerly 
direction,  the  northern,  northwestern,  southern  and 
southwestern,  all  coming  in  on  the  morning's  Georgia 
Railroad  train.  Therefore  ever  since  Thomie’s  return 
to  his  command,  the  western  mail  was  the  one  around 
which  our  hopes  and  fears  daily  clustered. 

General  Joseph  E.  Johnston’s  army  was,  at  the  time 
of  this  incident,  at  Dalton,  obstructing  the  advance  of 
Sherman’s  “three  hundred  thousand  men”  on  destruc- 
tion bent.  And  though  there  had  been  no  regular  line 
of  battle  formed  for  some  time  by  the  Confederate 
and  Federal  forces,  there  were  frequent  skirmishes,  dis- 
astrous alike  to  both  sides.  Hence  the  daily  alternation 
of  hopes  and  fears  in  the  hearts  of  those  whose  princi- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


105 


pal  occupation  was  waiting  and  watching  for  “news  from 
the  front.” 

The  team  of  which  Toby  was  the  proud  possessor 
did  its  work  quickly,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
tell  it  he  appeared  in  sight,  returning  from  the  post-of- 
fice— one  hand  clasping  a package  of  papers  and  letters, 
and  the  other,  raised  high  above  his  head,  holding  a let- 
ter. I could  not  wait,  and  ran  to  meet  him. 

“I’ve  got  a whole  lot  of  letters,  and  every  one  of 
them  is  from  Dalton,  and  this  one  is  from  Marse 
Thomie !” 

Toby  had  read  the  Dalton  post-mark,  and  had  made 
a correct  statement.  The  well-known  chirography  of 
my  brother  had  become  so  familiar  to  him  that  he  never 
mistook  it  for  another,  and  was  unerring  in  his  declara- 
tions regarding  it.  On  this  occasion  Thomie’s  letter  thus 
read : 

“My  Dear  Sister  : — Those  acquainted  with  army  tac- 
tics know  that  General  Johnston  is  on  the  eve  of  an  im- 
portant move,  or  change  of  base ; and  that  it  should  be  the 
effort  of  the  men,  officers  and  privates,  to  be  prepared 
to  make  the  change,  whatever  it  may  be,  with  as  little 
loss  of  army  paraphernalia  as  possible.  As  the  Con- 
federate army  has  no  repository  secure  from  the  approach 
of  the  enemy,  several  of  our  friends  suggest  that  you 
might  be  willing  to  take  care  of  anything  which  we 
might  send  to  you,  that  would  be  of  future  use  to  us — 
heavy  overcoats,  extra  blankets,  etc.,  etc.  Consider  well 
the  proposition  before  you  consent.  Should  they  be 
found  in  your  possession  by  the  enemy,  then  our  home 
might  be  demolished,  and  you  perhaps  imprisoned,  or 
killed  upon  the  spot.  Are  you  willing  to  take  the  risk, 


106 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


trusting  to  your  ingenuity  and  bravery  to  meet  the  con- 
sequences? Let  me  know  as  soon  as  possible,  as  war 
times  admit  of  little  delay.  General  Granbury,  Colonel 
Bob  Young,  and  others  may  make  known  to  you  their 
wishes  by  personal  correspondence.  Love  to  my  mother 
and  sister,  and  to  yourself,  brave  heart. 

Affectionately,  your  brother, 

T.  J.  Stokes/'’ 

This  letter  was  read  aloud  to  my  mother,  and  the 
faithful  mail  carrier  was  not  excluded.  She  listened  and 
weighed  every  word  of  its  contents.  For  several  moments 
a silence  reigned,  which  was  broken  by  her  asking  me 
what  I was  going  to  do  in  the  matter. 

“What  would  you  have  me  do?”  I asked  in  reply. 

“What  would  they  do,  Mary,  in  very  cold  weather, 
if  they  should  lose  their  winter  clothing,  overcoats  and 
blankets,  now  that  supplies  are  so  difficult  to  obtain  ?” 

This  question,  evasive  as  it  was,  convinced  me  that 
my  mother’s  patriotism  was  fully  adequate  to  the  occa- 
sion, and  fraught  with  peril  as  it  might  be,  she  was 
willing  to  bear  her  part  of  the  consequences  of  taking 
care  of  the  soldiers’  clothes. 

The  return  mail  bore  the  following  letter  addressed 
jointly  to  General  Granbury,  Colonel  Robert  Young, 
Captains  Lauderdale  and  Formwalt,  Lieutenant  Stokes, 
and  Major  John  Y.  Rankin: 

“My  Dear  Brother  and  Friends  : — I thank  you 
for  the  estimate  you  have  placed  upon  my  character  and 
patriotism,  as  indicated  by  your  request  that  I should 
take  care  of  your  overcoats,  blankets,  etc.,  until  you 
need  them.  If  I were  willing  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


107 


your  valor  and  sacrifices  without  also  being  willing  to 
share  your  perils,  I would  be  unworthy  indeed.  Yes,  if 
I knew  that  for  taking  care  of  those  things,  I would  sub- 
ject myself  to  real  danger,  I would  essay  the  duty.  Send 
them  on.  I will  meet  them  in  Atlanta,  and  see  that  they 
continue  their  journey  to  Decatur  without  delay. 

Your  friend,  M.  A.  H.  G.” 

Another  mail  brought  intelligence  of  the  shipment 
of  the  goods,  and  I lost  no  time  in  going  to  Atlanta  and 
having  them  re-shipped  to  Decatur.  There  were  nine  large 
dry  goods  boxes,  and  I went,  immediately  on  their  arrival, 
to  Mr.  E.  Mason’s  and  engaged  his  two-horse  wagon  and 
driver  to  carry  them  from  the  depot  to  our  home.  When 
they  were  brought,  we  had  them  placed  in  our  com- 
pany dining-room.  This  room,  by  a sort  of  tacit  under- 
standing, had  become  a store-room  for  the  army  before 
this  important  lot  of  goods  came,  and,  as  a dining-room, 
much  incongruity  of  furniture  existed,  among  which  was 
a large,  high  wardrobe.  The  blinds  were  now  closed  and 
secured,  the  sash  put  down  and  fastened,  the  doors  shut 
and  locked,  and  this  room  given  up  to  the  occupancy  of 
Confederate  articles ; and  thus  it  remained  during  the 
eventful  period  intervening  between  the  departure  of 
General  Joseph  E.  Johnston’s  army  from  Dalton,  and 
Sherman’s  infamous  order  to  the  people  of  Atlanta  and 
vicinity  to  leave  their  homes,  that  they  might  be  de- 
stroyed by  his  vandal  hordes. 


108 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A SCENE  IN  AN  ATLANTA  CONFEDERATE  HOSPITAL. 

“Well,  my  boy,  our  patients  are  all  getting  along 
nicely  in  the  Fair  Ground  hospital,”  was  the  comforting 
assurance  I gave  to  Toby,  who  was  my  faithful  co-worker 
in  all  that  pertained  to  the  comfort  of  our  soldiers.  “Sup- 
pose we  go  to  the  Empire  hospital  and  see  what  we  can 
do  there.” 

“Yes’m,  I have  always  wanted  to  go  there.” 

Taking  one  of  the  baskets  we  had  brought  with  us 
from  Decatur,  and  which  contained  biscuits,  rusk,  broiled 
and  fried  chicken,  ground  coffee  and  blackberry  wine, 
I handed  it  to  him,  and  we  wended  our  way  to  the  hos- 
pital. Things  were  not  in  as  good  shape  there  as  at  the 
Fair  Ground  hospital.  I perceived  this  at  a glance,  and, 
upon  asking  and  receiving  permission  from  the  superin- 
tendent, I soon  tidied  up  things  considerably.  Toby 
brought  pails  of  fresh  water,  and  aided  in  bathing  the 
faces,  hands  and  arms  of  the  convalescing  soldiers,  while 
I hunted  up  the  soldier  lads  who  ought  to  have  been  at 
home  with  their  mothers,  and  bestowed  the  tender,  loving 
service  that  woman  only  can  give  to  the  sick  and  suffer- 
ing. 

Entering  one  of  the  wards,  I perceived  a youth,  or 
one  I took  to  be  a youth,  from  his  slender,  fragile  figure, 
and  his  beardless  face,  lean  and  swarthy  in  sickness,  but 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


109 


beautiful  in  its  fine  texture  and  the  marble-like  white- 
ness of  the  brow.  That  he  was  of  French  extraction 
there  could  be  no  doubt.  Quietly  kneeling  by  the  side 
of  his  cot,  I contemplated  his  face,  his  head,  his  figure — 
I listened  to  his  breathing,  and  watched  the  pulsations 
of  his  heart,  and  knew  that  his  days,  yea,  his  hours  were 
numbered.  Taking  his  hand  in  mine,  I perceived  that 
the  little  vitality  that  remained  was  fast  burning  up  with 
fever.  Putting  back  back  the  beautiful  rings  of  raven 
hair  that  lay  in  disheveled  clusters  over  his  classic  head, 
and  partly  concealed  his  white  brow,  I thought  of  his 
mother,  and  imprinted  upon  his  forehead  a kiss  for  her 
sake.  The  deep  slumber  induced  by  anodynes  was  broken 
by  that  touch,  and  a dazed  awakening  ensued.  “Mother,” 
was  his  pathetic  and  only  utterance. 

“What  can  I do  for  you,  my  dear  child?” 

There  are  looks  and  tones  which  are  never  forgotten, 
and  never  shall  I forget  the  utter  despair  in  the  eyes, 
lustrous  and  beautiful  enough  to  look  upon  the  glory  of 
heaven,  and  the  anguish  of  the  voice,  musical  enough  to 
sing  the  songs  of  everlasting  bliss,  as  he  said  in  tremu- 
lous tone  and  broken  sentences  : 

“I  want  to  see  a Catholic  priest.  I have  paid  several 
men  to  go  for  me.  They  have  gone  off  and  never  re- 
turned. I have  no  money  with  which  to  pay  any  one 
else.” 

In  silence  I listened  and  wept.  At  length  I said : 

“My  dear  young  friend,  can  you  not  make  confes- 
sion to  ‘our  Father  which  art  in  Heaven,’  and  ask  Him 
for  Christ’s  sake  to  absolve  you  from  all  sins  of  which 
you  may  think  yourself  guilty?  He  will  do  it  without 


110 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


the  intervention  of  a priest,  if  you  will  only  believe  on 
Him  and  trust  Him.  Can  you  not  do  this?” 

The  pencil  of  Raphael  would  fail  to  depict  the  an- 
guish of  his  face;  all  hope  left  it,  and,  as  he  turned 
his  despairing  look  upon  the  wall,  tear  drops  glistened 
in  his  eyes  and  filled  the  sunken  hollows  beneath  them. 
Again  I took  his  passive  hand  in  mine,  and  with  the 
other  hand  upon  his  white  forehead,  I told  him  he  should 
see  a priest — that  I myself  would  go  for  one,  and  just 
as  soon  as  he  could  be  found  I would  return  with  him. 
Before  leaving,  however,  I went  to  the  ward  where 
I had  left  Toby  and  the  basket,  and  filling  a little  glass 
with  wine,  I brought  it  to  the  sinking  youth.  He  could 
not  be  induced  to  taste  it.  In  vain  I plead  with  him, 
and  told  him  that  it  would  strengthen  him  for  the  in- 
terview with  the  priest.  “I  am  going  now,  and  will 
come  back,  too,  as  soon  as  I can,”  I said  to  the  dying 
youth,  for  to  all  intents  and  purposes  he  was  dying  then. 
Seeing  the  other  patients  watching  my  every  movement 
with  pathetic  interest,  I was  reminded  to  give  the  re- 
jected wine  to  the  weakest  looking  one  of  them. 

Leaving  Toby  either  to  wait  on  or  amuse  the  soldiers 
of  the  ward  first  entered  (where  I. found  him  playing  the 
latter  role,  much  to  their  delight),  with  hasty 'steps  I 
went  to  the  Catholic  parsonage  on  Hunter  street.  In 
response  to  my  ring  the  door  was  opened  by  an  Irish 
woman  from  whom  I learned  that  the  priest  was  not 
in,  and  would  not  be  until  he  came  to  luncheon  at  12 
o’clock  M.  It  was  then  11  o’clock,  and  I asked  the  priv- 
ilege of  waiting  in  the  sitting-room  until  he  came.  This 
being  granted,  I entered  the  room  consecrated  to  celibacy, 
and  perhaps  to  holy  thoughts,  judging  from  the  pictures 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


Ill 


upon  the  walls  and  the  other  ornaments.  These  things 
furnished  food  for  reflection,  and  the  waiting  would  not 
have  seemed  so  long  but  for  the  thought  of  the  poor 
suffering  one  who  had  given  his  young  life  for  our 
cause.  Intuitively  I knew  the  sound  of  clerical  footsteps 
as  they  entered  the  hall,  and  hastening  to  meet  him  I 
asked,  “Is  this  Father  O’Riley?”  Receiving  an  affirm- 
ative answer,  I told  him  of  the  youth  at  the  Empire 
hospital  who  refused  to  be  comforted  other  than  by  a 
Catholic  priest,  and  of  my  promise  to  bring  one  to  him. 
Father  O’Riley  said  he  had  been  out  since  early  morning, 
visiting  the  sick,  and  would  be  obliged  to  refresh  him- 
self, both  by  by  food  and  repose,  but  that  I could  say 
to  the  young  man  that  he  would  be  there  by  3 o’clock. 
“O,  sir,  you  don’t  realize  the  importance  of  haste.  Please 
let  me  remain  in  your  sitting-room  until  you  have  eaten 
your  luncheon,  and  then  I know  you  will  go  with  me. 
I,  too,  have  been  out  ever  since  early  morning  engaged 
in  the  same  Christ-like  labors  as  yourself,  and  I do  not 
require  either  food  or  repose.” 

My  earnestness  prevailed,  and  in  a short  while  we 
were  at  our  destination.  At  my  request,  Father  O’Riley 
waited  in  the  passage-way  leading  to  the  ward  until  I 
went  in  to  prepare  the  young  man  for  his  coming.  I 
found  him  in  that  restless  condition,  neither  awake  nor 
asleep,  which  often  precedes  the  deep  sleep  that  knows 
no  waking.  Wetting  my  handkerchief  with  cold  water, 
I bathed  his  face  and  hands,  and  spoke  gently  to  him, 
and,  when  he  seemed  sufficiently  aroused  to  understand 
me,  I told  him  in  cheerful  tones  that  he  could  not  guess 
who  had  come  to  see  him.  Catching  his  look  of  inquiry, 
I told  him  it  was  Father  O’Riley,  and  that  I would 


112 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


bring  him  in.  Opening  the  door,  I motioned  to  Father 
O’Riley  to  follow  me.  The  dying  youth  and  the  Catholic 
priest  needed  no  introduction  by  me.  There  was  a mys- 
tic tie  between  them  that  I recognized  as  sacred,  and  I 
left  them  alone.  Telling  Father  O’Riley  that  I consigned 
my  charge  to  him,  and  that  I would  come  back  to- 
morrow, I bade  them  good-bye  and  left. 

The  contents  of  the  basket  had  been  gratefully  re- 
ceived and  devoured  by  those  who  deserved  the  best  in 
the  land,  because  they  were  the  land’s  defenders. 

To-morrow  Toby  and  I,  and  the  basket,  were  at  the 
Empire  hospital  in  due  time,  but  the  poor  suffering  youth 
was  not  there.  The  emancipated  spirit  had  taken  its 
flight  to  Heaven,  and  all  that  was  mortal  of  that  brave 
young  soldier  had  been  consigned  by  the  ceremonies  of 
the  church  he  loved  so  well  to  the  protecting  care  of 
mother  earth. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


113 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Concealing  Confederate  Clothing — Valuables  Carried  to  At- 
lanta— Toby  Taken  111. 

On  the  way  to  the  post-office  early  one  morning  in 
the  sultry  month  of  July,  1864,  to  mail  a number  of 
letters  which  I deemed  too  important  to  be  entrusted  to 
other  hands,  I was  accosted  as  follows  by  “Uncle  Mack,” 
the  good  negro  blacksmith,  whose  shop  was  situated  im- 
mediately upon  the  route : 

“Did  you  know,  Miss  Mary,  that  the  Yankees  have 
crossed  the  river,  and  are  now  this  side  of  the  Chatta- 
hoochee ?” 

“Why,  no!”  I said,  and  added  with  as  much  calm- 
ness as  I could  affect,  “I  do  not  know  why  I should  be 
surprised — there  is  nothing  to  prevent  them  from  coming 
into  Decatur.” 

With  an  imprecation  more  expressive  than  elegant, 
that  evil  should  overtake  them  before  getting  here,  he 
resumed  hammering  at  the  anvil,  and  I my  walk  to  the 
post-office.  Nor  was  Uncle  Mack  the  only  one  who 
volunteered  the  information  that  “The  Yankees  are  com- 
ing— they  are  this  side  the  river.” 

The  time  had  come  to  devise  means  and  methods  of 
concealing  the  winter  clothing  and  other  accoutrements 
entrusted  to  my  care  by  our  dear  soldiers.  In  order  to 
save  them,  what  should  I do  with  them? — was  a question 


114 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


which  I found  myself  unable  to  answer.  An  attempt  to 
retain  and  defend  them  would  be  futile  indeed.  And 
I have  no  right  to  jeopardize  my  mother’s  home  by  a 
rash  effort  to  accomplish  an  impossibility.  But  what 
shall  I do  with  these  precious  things,  is  the  question.  A 
happy  thought  struck  me,  and  I pursued  it  only  to  find 
it  delusive.  The  near  approach  of  Sherman’s  army 
developed  the  astounding  fact  that  Dr.  A.  Holmes,  of 
Decatur,  a Baptist  minister  of  some  prominence,  claimed 
to  be  a Union  man,  in  full  sympathy  with  any  means 
that  would  soonest  quell  the  rebellion.  This  I had  not 
heard,  and  in  my  dilemma  I went  to  him  to  impart  my 
plans  and  ask  advice.  He  was  morose  and  reticent,  and 
I hesitated ; but,  driven  by  desperation,  I finally  said : 
“Dr.  Holmes,  as  a minister  of  the  gospel,  are  you  not 
safe?  All  civilized  nations  respect  clerical  robes,  do  they 
not?’’ 

“I  think  so,”  he  said,  and  continued  by  saying,  “I 
have  other  claims  upon  the  Federal  army  which  will 
secure  me  from  molestation.” 

A look  of  surprise  and  inquiry  being  my  only  answer, 
he  said,  “Amid  the  secession  craze,  I have  never  given 
up  my  allegiance  to  the  United  States.” 

“Why,  Dr.  Holmes !”  I said,  in  unfeigned  surprise. 

“I  repeat  most  emphatically  that  I have  remained  un- 
shaken in  my  allegiance  to  the  United  States.  I have  no 
respect  for  a little  contemptible  Southern  Confederacy, 
whose  flag  will  never  be  recognized  on  land  or  on  sea.” 

This  was  a sad  revelation  to  me.  On  more  than  one 
occasion  I had  heard  Dr.  Holmes  pray  fervently  for  the 
success  of  the  Southern  cause,  and  to  hear  such  changed 
utterances  from  him  now,  pained  me  exceedingly.  Heart- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


115 


sore  and  discouraged,  I turned  from  him,  and  was  leaving 
without  the  usual  ceremony,  when  he  said : 

“What  can  I do  for  you?” 

“I  came,  sir,  to  ask  a great  favor  of  you,  but  after 
hearing  you  express  yourself  as  you  have,  I deem  it 
useless  to  make  known  my  wishes.  Good  morning.” 

This  interview  with  Dr.  Holmes  was  very  brief ; it 
did  not  consume  as  much  time  as  it  has  done  to  tell  it. 

I did  not  walk  in  those  days,  but  ran,  and  it  re- 
quired only  a few  moments  to  transfer  the  scene  of  action 
from  Dr.  Holmes’  to  my  mother’s  residence.  A hurried, 
whispered  conversation  acquainted  her  with  the  situa- 
tion ; and  at  my  request,  and  upon  a plausible  pretense, 
she  took  Toby  to  the  depot  where  she  remained  until  I 
sent  for  her.  My  confidence  in  Toby  had  not  in  the  least 
diminished,  but,  being  a boy,  I feared  that  he  might  have 
his  price,  or  be  intimidated  by  threats  into  the  betrayal 
of  our  secret ; hence  the  management  as  above  related 
to  get  him  off  the  place  while  I consummated  a plan, 
which,  if  successful,  would  be  a great  achievement,  but, 
if  a failure,  would  be  fraught  with  disaster.  In  those 
days  “the  depot”  was  a place  of  popular  resort — it  was 
the  emporium  of  news;  and  either  from  the  agent,  or 
from  the  Confederate  scouts  that  were  ever  and  anon 
dashing  through  Decatur  with  cheerful  messages  and 
words  of  hope,  the  anxiows  mothers  and  sisters  of  the 
soldiers  often  wended  their  way  there  in  hope  of  hear- 
ing something  from  their  loved  ones.  Therefore  no  sus- 
picion was  aroused  by  this  going  to  the  depot. 

Watching  the  receding  form  of  my  mother  until  she 
had  passed  out  of  the  gate,  and  Toby  had  closed  it  after 
her,  I then  went  to  the  rear  door  and  motioned  to  Teli- 


116 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


tha,  who  chanced  to  be  in  the  right  place,  to  come  into 
the  house.  After  seeing  that  every  outside  door  was 
thoroughly  secure,  I took  her  into  the  dining-room  where 
the  boxes  were  which  contained  the  winter  clothing, 
blankets,  etc.,  already  mentioned  as  having  been  sent 
for  storage  by  our  soldier  friends  at  Dalton,  and  told 
her  in  pantomime  that  the  Yankees  were  coming,  and 
if  they  saw  these  things  they  would  kill  us  and  burn  the 
house.  She  fully  understood  and  repeated  the  pantomime 
illustrative  of  possible — yea,  probable — coming  events, 
with  pathetic  effect.  I showed  her  that  I wanted  a ham- 
mer and  chisel  with  which  to  take  off  the  lids  of  the 
boxes,  and  she  brought  them.  The  lids  removed,  each 
article  was  carefully  lifted  from  its  repository  and  placed 
on  chairs.  This  important  step  being  taken  towards  the 
concealment  of  the  goods,  I raised  the  sash  and  opened 
the  shutters  of  the  window  nearest  the  cellar,  which  was 
unlocked  and  open,  and  Telitha,  climbing  out  the  win- 
dow, received  the  boxes  as  I handed  them  to  her,  and 
carried  them  into  the  cellar.  Old  and  soiled  as  the  boxes 
were,  they  were  not  in  a condition  to  create  suspicion  of 
recent  use,  so  from  that  source  we  had  nothing  to  fear. 
Telitha  again  in  the  house,  shutters  closed,  and  sash 
down,  preparation  was  resumed  for  the  enactment  of  a 
feat  dangerous  and  rash,  the  thought  of  which,  even  at 
this  remote  period,  almost  produces  a tremor.  The  ward- 
robe mentioned  in  a former  sketch  as  an  incongruity  in  a 
dining-room,  was  emptied  of  its  contents,  and  inch  by 
inch  placed  as  near  the  center  of  the  room  as  possible ; 
then  a large  table  was  placed  beside  it,  and  a chair  upon 
that ; and  then  with  the  help  of  another  chair,  which 
served  as  a step,  I got  upon  the  table  and  then  upon  the 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


117 


chair  that  was  upon  the  table.  As  I went  up,  Telitha 
followed ; standing  upon  the  table  she  grasped  the  ward- 
robe with  her  strong  hands  and  held  it  securely.  I as- 
cended from  the  chair  to  the  top  of  it,  stood  up  and 
steadied  myself,  and  waited,  immovable  as  a statue,  until 
she  got  down  and  brought  the  chisel  and  hammer  and 
placed  them  at  my  feet,  and  resumed  her  hold  upon  the 
wardrobe.  I stooped  and  picked  up  the  utensils  with 
which  I had  to  work,  and  straightened  and  steadied  my- 
self again.  The  chisel  touched  the  plastered  ceiling,  and 
the  hammer  began.  Very  slow  work  it  was  at  first,  as 
the  licks  had  to  be  upward  instead  of  downward,  and  the 
plastering  was  very  thick.  Finally  the  chisel  went 
through  and  was  withdrawn  and  moved  to  another  place, 
and  by  repeated  efforts  I secured  an  aperture  large 
enough  to  insert  my  fingers,  and  a few  well-directed  licks 
round  and  about  so  cracked  and  weakened  the  plastering 
that  I was  enabled  to  pull  off  some  large  pieces.  A new 
difficulty  presented  itself.  The  laths  were  long,  much 
longer  than  those  of  the  present  day,  and  I not  only  had 
to  make  a large  opening  in  the  ceiling,  but  to  take  off  the 
plastering  without  breaking  the  laths.  More  than  once 
the  wardrobe  had  to  b»  moved  that  I might  pull  off  the 
plastering,  and  then  with  the  greatest  care  prize  off  the 
laths.  At  length  the  feat  was  accomplished,  and  I laid 
the  lids  of  the  boxes,  which  had  been  reserved  for  this 
purpose,  across  the  joists,  and  made  a floor  upon  which 
to  lay  the  goods  more  than  once  specified  in  these 
sketches.  When  the  last  article  had  been  laid  on  this 
improvised  shelf,  I gazed  upon  them  in  silent  anguish 
and  wept.  Telitha  caught  the  melancholy  inspiration 
and  also  wept.  Each  lath  was  restored  to  its  place  and 


118 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


the  perilous  work  was  completed,  and  how  I thanked  the 
Lord  for  the  steady  nerve  and  level  head  that  enabled 
me  to  do  this  service  for  those  who  were  fighting  the 
battles  of  my  country. 

But  the  debris  must  be  removed.  While  the  doors 
were  yet  closed  and  fastened,  we  pounded  and  broke  the 
plastering  into  very  small  pieces  and  filled  every  vessel 
and  basket  in  the  house.  I then  went  out  and  walked 
very  leisurely  over  the  yard  and  lot,  and  lingered  over 
every  lowly  flower  that  sweetened  the  atmosphere  by  its 
fragrance,  and  when  I was  fully  persuaded  that  no  spy 
was  lurking  nigh  I re-entered  the  house  and  locked  the 
door.  Picking  up  the  largest  vessel,  and  motioning  Te- 
litha  to  follow  suit,  I led  the  way  through  a back  door 
to  a huge  old  ash  hopper,  and  emptied  the  pulverized 
plastering  into  it.  In  this  way  we  soon  had  every  trace 
of  it  removed  from  the  floor.  The  dust  that  had  set- 
tled upon  everything  was  not  so  easily  removed,  but 
the  frequent  use  of  dusting  brushes  and  flannel  cloths 
disposed  of  the  most  of  it. 

I now  wrote  a note  to  my  mother,  inviting  her  to 
come  home  and  to  bring  Toby  with  her.  We  kept  the 
doors  of  the  dining-room  closed,  as  had  been  our  wont 
for  some  time,  and  if  Toby  ever  discovered  the  change, 
he  never  betrayed  the  knowledge  of  it  by  word  or  look. 
After  a light  breakfast,  and  the  excitement  of  the  day, 
I felt  that  we  ought  to  have  a good,  luscious  dinner,  and, 
with  the  help  at  my  command,  went  to  work  preparing 
it,  and,  as  was  my  custom  of  late,  I did  not  forget  to 
provide  for  others  who  might  come  in.  More  than  once 
during  the  day  Confederate  scouts  had  galloped  in  and 
spoken  a few  words  of  encouragement ; and,  after  taking 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


119 


a drink  of  water  from  the  old  oaken  bucket,  had  galloped 
out  again,  so  I hoped  they  would  come  back  when  the 
biscuit  and  tea-cakes  were  done,  that  I might  fill  their 
pockets. 

After  the  last  meal  of  the  day  had  been  eaten,  I 
held  another  whispered  consultation  with  my  mother, 
and,  in  pursuance  of  the  course  agreed  upon,  I emptied 
several  trunks,  and  with  her  help  filled  one  with  quilts 
and  blankets,  and  other  bedding;  another  with  china  and 
cut  glass,  well  packed;  and  another  with  important  pa- 
pers, treasured  relics,  etc.,  and  locked  and  strapped 
them  ready  for  shipment  next  morning. 

A night  of  unbroken  rest  and  sleep  prepared  me  for 
another  day  of  surprises  and  toil,  and  before  dawn  I was 
up,  dressed,  waiting  for  daylight  enough  to  justify  me 
in  the  effort  to  see  Mr.  Ezekiel  Mason,  and  beg  him  to 
hire  me  his  team  and  driver  to  carry  thetrunks  to  the  depot. 
After  my  ready  compliance  with  his  terms,  he  agreed 
to  send  them  as  soon  as  possible.  The  delay  caused  me 
to  go  on  a freight  train  to  Atlanta,  but  I congratulated 
myself  upon  that  privilege,  as  the  trunks  and  Toby  went 
on  the  same  train.  There  was  unusual  commotion  and 
activity  about  the  depot  in  Atlanta,  and  a superficial  ob- 
server would  have  been  impressed  with  the  business- 
like appearance  of  the  little  city  at  that  important  lo- 
cality. Men,  women,  and  children  moved  ab^ut  as  if  they 
meant  business.  Trains  came  in  rapidly,  and  received 
their  complement  of  freight,  either  animate  or  inanimate, 
and  screamed  themselves  hoarse  and  departed,  giving 
place  to  others  that  went  through  with  the  same  routine. 
Drays  and  every  manner  of  vehicles  blocked  the  streets, 
and  endangered  life,  limb,  and  property  of  all  who  could 


120 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


not  vie  with  them  in  push,  vim,  and  dare-deviltry.  In 
vain  did  I appeal  to  scores  of  draymen,  white  and  black, 
to  carry  my  trunks  to  the  home  of  Mr.  McArthur,  on 
Pryor  street — money  was  offered  with  liberality,  but  to  no 
avail.  Despairing  of  aid,  I bade  Toby  follow  me,  and 
went  to  Mr.  McArthur’s.  He  and  his  good  wife  were 
willing  to  receive  the  trunks  and  give  them  storage  room, 
but  could  extend  no  aid  in  bringing  them  there.  At 
length,  as  a last  resort,  it  was  decided  that  Toby  should 
take  their  wheelbarrow  and  bring  one  trunk  at  a time. 
I returned  with  him  to  the  depot  and  had  the  most  valu- 
able trunk  placed  upon  the  wheelbarrow,  and  with  my 
occasional  aid,  Toby  got  it  to  its  destination.  A second 
trip  was  made  in  like  manner,  and  the  third  was  not  a 
failure,  although  I saw  that  Toby  was  very  tired.  Thank- 
ing my  good  friends  for  the  favor  they  were  extending, 
1 hurried  back  to  the  depot,  myself  and  Toby,  to  take  the 
first  train  to  Decatur.  Imagine  our  consternation  on 
learning  that  the  Yankees  had  dashed  in  and  torn  up  the 
Georgia  Railroad  track  from  Atlanta  to  Decatur,  and 
were  pursuing  their  destructive  work  towards  Augusta. 
Neither  for  love  nor  money  could  a seat  in  any  kind  of 
vehicle  going  in  that  direction  be  obtained,  nor  were  I 
and  my  attendant  the  only  ones  thus  cut  off  from  home ; 
and  I soon  discovered  that  a spirit  of  independence  per- 
vaded the  crowd.  Many  were  the  proud  possessors  of 
elegant  spans  of  “little  white  ponies”  which  they  did 
not  deem  too  good  to  propel  them  homeward.  Seeking 
to  infuse  a little  more  life  and  animation  into  Toby,  I 
said : 

“Well,  my  boy,  what  do  you  think  of  bringing  out  your 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


121 


little  black  ponies  and  running  a race  with  my  white  ones 
to  Decatur?  Do  you  think  you  can  beat  in  the  race?” 

„ “I  don’t  know’m,”  he  said,  without  his  usual  smile, 
when  I essayed  a little  fun  with  him,  and  I evidently  heard 
him  sigh.  But  knowing  there  was  no  alternative,  I started 
in  a brisk  walk  towards  Decatur,  and  said  to  him,  “Come 
on,  or  I’ll  get  home  before  you  do.”  He  rallied  and  kept 
very  close  to  me,  and  we  made  pretty  good  time.  The 
gloaming  was  upon  us,  the  period  of  all  others  aupicious  to 
thought,  and  to  thought  I abandoned  myself.  The  strife 
between  the  sections  of  a once  glorious  country  was  a 
prolific  theme,  and  I dwelt  upon  it  in  all  of  its  ramifica- 
tions, and  failed  to  find  cause  for  blame  in  my  peculiar 
people ; and  my  step  became  prouder,  and  my  willingness 
to  endure  all  things  for  their  sakes  and  mine  was  more 
confirmed.  In  the  midst  of  these  inspiring  reflections, 
Toby,  who  had  somewhat  lagged  behind,  came  running 
up  to  me  and  said: 

“Oh!  Miss  Mary,  just  look  at  the  soldiers.  And  they 
are  ours,  too !” 

To  my  dying  day  I shall  never  forget  the  scene  to 
which  he  called  my  attention.  In  the  weird  stillness  it 
appeared  as  if  the  Lord  had  raised  up  of  the  stones  a 
mighty  host  to  fight  our  battles.  Not  a sound  was  heard, 
nor  a word  spoken,  as  those  in  the  van  passed  opposite 
me,  on  and  on,  and  on,  in  the  direction  of  Decatur,  in 
what  seemed  to  me  an  interminable  line  of  soldiery. 
Toby  and  I kept  the  track  of  the  destroyed  railroad,  and 
were  somewhere  between  General  Gartrell’s  residence  and 
Mr.  Pitts’,  the  midway  station  between  Atlanta  and  De- 
catur, when  the  first  of  these  soldiers  passed  us,  and  we 
were  at  Kirkwood  when  that  spectre-like  band  had  fully 


122 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


gone.  Once  the  moon  revealed  me  so  plainly  that  a cheer, 
somewhat  repressed,  but  nevertheless  hearty,  resounded 
through  the  woods,  and  I asked : 

“Whose  command?” 

“Wheeler’s  Cavalry,”  was  the  simultaneous  response 
of  many  who  heard  my  inquiry. 

“Don’t  you  know  me?  I am  the  one  you  gave  the 
best  breakfast  I ever  ate,  that  morning  we  dashed  into 
Decatur  before  sun-up.” 

“And  I’m  the  one,  too.” 

“O,  don’t  mention  it,”  I said.  “You  are  giving  your 
lives  for  me,  and  the  little  I can  do  for  you  is  nothing  in 
comparison.  May  God  be  with  you  and  shield  you  from 
harm  until  this  cruel  war  is  over.” 

I missed  Toby,  and  looking  back,  saw  him  sitting 
down.  I hurried  to  him,  saying.  “What  is  it,  my  boy?” 

“O,  Miss  Mary,  I am  so  sick.  I can’t  go  any  further. 
You  can  go  on  home,  and  let  me  stay  here — -when  I feel 
better  I’ll  go  too.” 

“No,  my  boy,  I’ll  not  leave  you.”  And  sitting  by  him 
I told  him  to  rest  his  head  upon  my  lap,  and  maybe  after 
awhile  he  would  feel  better,  and  then  we  would  go  on.  In 
the  course  of  a half  hour  he  vomited  copiously,  and  soon 
after  he  told  me  he  felt  better,  and  would  try  to  go  on. 
More  than  once  his  steps  were  unsteady  and  he  looked 
dazed ; but  under  my  patient  guidance  and  encouraging 
words  he  kept  up  and  we  pursued  our  lonely  walk  until 
we  reached  Decatur. 

As  soon  as  we  entered  the  town,  we  perceived  that 
we  had  overtaken  Wheeler’s  Cavalry.  They  were  lying 
on  the  ground,  asleep,  all  over  the  place ; and  in  most  in- 
stances their  horses  were  lying  by  them,  sleeping  too. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


123 


And  I noticed  that  the  soldiers,  even  though  asleep,  never 
released  their  hold  upon  the  bridles.  At  home  I found 
my  mother  almost  frantic.  She  knew  nothing  of  the 
causes  detaining  me,  and  supposed  that  some  disaster 
had  befallen  me  individually.  A good  supper,  includ- 
ing a strong  cup  of  tea  prepared  by  her  hands,  awaited  us, 
and  I attested  my  appreciation  of  it  by  eating  heartily. 
Toby  drank  a cup  of  tea  only,  and  said  he  ‘'was  very  tired 
and  hurt  all  over.” 


124 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  advance  guard  of  the  Yankee  army — I am  ordered  out — A 
noble  Federal. 

The  day  clear,  bright  and  beautiful,  in  July,  1864, 
and  though  a midsummer’s  sun  cast  its  vertical  rays  upon 
the  richly-carpeted  earth,  refreshing  showers  temoered  the 
heat  and  preserved  in  freshness  and  beauty  the  vernal 
robes  of  May  and  kept  the  atmosphere  pure  and  delight- 
ful. Blossoms  of  every  hue  and  fragrance  decked  the 
landscape,  and  Ceres  and  Pomona  had  been  as  lavish  with 
their  grains  and  fruits  as  Flora  had  been  with  flowers. 

And  I,  assisted  by  Toby  and  Telitha,  had  gathered 
from  the  best  of  these  rich  offerings,  and  prepared  a feast 
for  Wheeler’s  Cavalry.  By  the  way,  strive  against  it  as 
I would,  I was  more  than  once  disturbed  by  the  mental  in- 
quiry, “What  has  become  of  Wheeler’s  Cavalry  ? I saw  it 
enter  Decatur  last  night,  and  now  there  is  not  a soldier 
to  be  seen.  It  is  true  a large  number  of  scouts  came  in 
this  morning,  and  spoke  comforting  words  to  my  mother, 
and  reconnoitered  around  town  fearlessly,  but  what  has 
become  of  them?”  Hope  whispered:  “Some  strategic 
movement  that  will  culminate  in  the  capture  of  the  entire 
Yankee  army,  no  doubt  is  engaging  its  attention.” 
Yielding  to  these  delusive  reflections,  and  the  seductive 
influence  of  earth,  air  and  sky,  I became  quite  exhilarated 
and  hummed  little  snatches  of  the  songs  I used  to  sing  in 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


125 


the  happy  days  of  childhood,  before  a hope  had  been  dis- 
appointed or  a shadow  cast  over  my  pathway. 

These  scenes  and  these  songs  were  not  in  keeping 
with  the  impending  disasters  even  then  at  our  portals. 
Crapen  draperies  and  funeral  dirges  would  have  been 
far  more  in  keeping  with  the  developments  of  the  day. 

Distant  roar  of  cannon  and  sharp  report  of  musketry 
spoke  in  language  unmistakable  the  approach  of  the  ene- 
my, and  the  rapidity  of  that  approach  was  becoming  fear- 
fully alarming.  Decatur  offered  many  advantages  as 
headquarters  to  an  invading,  devastating  foe,  “and  three 
hundred  thousand  men”  under  the  guidance  of  a merci- 
less foe  ought  to  have  entered  it  long  before  they  did — 
and  would  have  done  so  if  their  bravery  had  been  com- 
mensurate with  their  vandalism. 

“Yank!  Yank!”  exclaimed  our  deaf  negro  girl,  Teli- 
tha,  as  she  stroked  her  face  as  if  stroking  beard,  and  ran 
to  get  a blue  garment  to  indicate  the  color  of  their  ap- 
parel, and  this  was  our  first  intimation  of  their  appear- 
ance in  Decatur.  If  all  the  evil  spirits  had  been  loosed 
from  Hades,  and  Satan  himself  had  been  turned  loose 
upon  us,  a more  terrific,  revolting  scene  could  not  have 
been  enacted. 

Advance  guards,  composed  of  every  species  of  crimi- 
nals ever  incarcerated  in  the  prisons  of  the  Northern 
States  of  America,  swooped  down  upon  us,  and  every 
species  of  deviltry  followed  in  their  footsteps. 
My  poor  mother,  frightened  and  trembling,  and  myself, 
having  locked  the  doors  of  the  house,  took  our  stand  with 
the  servants  in  the  yard,  and  witnessed  the  grand  entre 
of  the  menagerie.  One  of  the  beasts  got  down  upon  his 
all-fours  and  pawed  up  the  dust  and  bellowed  like  an  in- 


120 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


furiated  bull.  And  another  asked  me  if  I did  not  expect 
to  see  them  with  hoofs  and  horns.  I told  him,  “No,  I 
had  expected  to  see  some  gentlemen  among  them,  and 
was  sorry  I should  be  disappointed.” 

My  entire  exemption  from  fear  on  that  occasion  must 
have  been  our  safeguard,  as  no  personal  violence  was  at- 
tempted. He  who  personated  a bull  must  have  been  the 
king’s  fool,  and  was  acting  in  collusion  with  the  house 
pillagers  sent  in  advance  of  the  main  army  to  do  their 
dirty  work,  and  to  reduce  the  people  to  destitution  and  de- 
pendence. While  he  thought  he  was  entertaining  us 
with  his  quadrupedal  didos,  a horde  of  thieves  were  rum- 
maging the  house,  and  everything  of  value  they  could 
get  their  hands  upon  they  stole — locks  and  bolts  having 
proved  ineffectual  barriers  to  this  nefarious  work.  By 
this  time  the  outside  marauders  had  killed  every  chicken 
and  other  fowl  upon  the  place,  except  one  setting  hen. 
A fine  cow  and  two  calves  and  twelve  hogs  shared  a 
similar  fate. 

Several  hours  had  passed  since  the  coming  of  the  first 
installment  of  the  G.  A.  R.,  and  a few  scattering  officers 
were  perambulating  the  streets,  and  an  occasional  cavalry- 
man reconnoitering.  Having  surveyed  the  situation,  and 
discovered  that  only  women  and  children  and  a few  faith- 
ful negroes  occupied  the  town,  the  main  army  came  in 
like  an  avalanche.  Yea,  if  an  avalanche  and  a simoon 
had  blended  their  fury  and  expended  it  upon  that  de- 
fenceless locality,  a greater  change  could  scarcely  have 
been  wrought. 

The  morning’s  sun  had  shone  upon  a scene  of  luxuri- 
ant beauty,  and  heightened  its  midsummer  loveliness,  but 
the  same  sun,  only  a few  hours  later,  witnessed  a complete 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


127 


transformation,  and  blight  and  desolation  reigned  su- 
preme. My  mother  and  myself,  afraid  to  go  in  the  house, 
still  maintained  our  outdoor  position,  and  our  two  faithful 
servants  clung  very  close  to  us,  notwithstanding  repeated 
efforts  to  induce  them  to  leave.  Our  group  had  re- 
ceived addition.  Emmeline,  a negro  girl  whom  we  had 
hired  out  in  Decatur,  had  been  discharged,  and  had  now 
come  home.  She  was  not  so  faithful  as  her  kith  and 
kin,  and  was  soon  on  familiar  terms  with  the  bummers. 
Toby  complained  of  being  very  tired,  and  when  we  all 
came  to  think  about  it,  we  discovered  that  we,  too,  were 
tired,  and  without  being  asked  took  seats  upon  the  capa- 
cious lap  of  mother  earth.  As  we  were  not  overly  par- 
ticular about  the  position  we  assumed,  we  must  have  pre- 
sented quite  an  aboriginal  appearance.  But  what  mat- 
tered it — we  were  only  rebels.  Notwithstanding  the  in- 
signia of  the  conqueror  was  displayed  on  every  hand,  we 
felt  to  a certain  degree  more  protected  by  the  presence 
of  commissioned  officers,  and  ventured  to  go  into  the 
house.  I will  not  attempt  a description  of  the  change 
that  had  taken  place  since  we  had  locked  the  door,  and, 
for  better  protection,  had  taken  our  stand  in  the  yard. 

Garrard’s  Cavalry  selected  our  lot,  consisting  of  sev- 
eral acres,  for  headquarters,  and  soon  what  appeared  to 
us  to  be  an  immense  army  train  of  wagons  commenced 
rolling  into  it.  In  less  than  two  hours  our  barn  was 
demolished  and  converted  into  tents,  which  were  occupied 
by  privates  and  non-commissioned  officers,  and  to  the 
balusters  of  our  portico  and  other  portions  of  the  house 
were  tied  a number  of  large  ropes,  which,  the  other  ends 
being  secured  to  trees  and  shrubbery,  answered  as  a rail- 
ing to  which  at  short  intervals  apart  a number  of  smaller 


128 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


ropes  were  tied,  and  to  these  were  attached  horses  and 
mules,  which  were  eating  corn  and  oats  out  of  troughs 
improvised  for  the  occasion  out  of  bureau,  washstand,  and 
wardrobe  drawers. 

Men  in  groups  were  playing  cards  on  tables  of  every 
size  and  shape;  and  whisky  and  profanity  held  high  car- 
nival. Thus  surrounded,  we  could  but  be  apprehensive  of 
danger;  and,  to  assure  ourselves  of  as  much  safety  as 
possible,  we  barricaded  the  doors  and  windows,  and  ar- 
ranged to  sit  up  all  night,  that  is,  my  mother  and  myself. 

Toby  complained  of  being  very  tired,  and  “hurting 
all  over,”  as  he  expressed  it.  We  assisted  him  in  mak- 
ing the  very  best  pallet  that  could  be  made  of  the  mate- 
rial at  our  command,  and  he  lay  down  completely  pros- 
trated. Telitha  was  wide  awake,  and  whenever  she  could 
secure  a listener  chattered  like  a magpie  in  unintelligible 
language,  accompanied  by  unmistakable  gestures — gestures 
which  an  accomplished  elocutionist  might  adopt  with  ef- 
fect— and  the  burden  of  her  heart  was  for  Emmeline. 
Emmeline  having  repudiated  our  protection,  had  sought 
shelter,  the  Lord  only  knows  where.  Alas,  poor  girl ! 

As  we  sat  on  a lounge,  every  chair  having  been  taken 
to  the  camps,  we  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps  entering  the 
piazza,  and  in  a moment,  loud  rapping,  which  meant  busi- 
ness. Going  to  the  window  nearest  the  door,  I removed 
the  fastenings,  raised  the  sash,  and  opened  the  blinds. 
Perceiving  by  the  light  of  a brilliant  moon  that  at  least  a 
half-dozen  men  in  uniform  were  on  the  piazza,  I asked : 

“Who  is  there?” 

“Gentlemen,”  was  the  laconic  reply. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


129 


“If  so,  you  will  not  persist  in  your  effort  to  come 
into  the  house.  There  is  only  a widow  and  one  of  her 
daughters,  and  two  faithful  servants  in  it.”  I said. 

“We  have  orders  from  headquarters  to  interview  Miss 
Gay.  Is  she  the  daughter  of  whom  you  speak?” 

“She  is,  and  I am  she.” 

“Well,  Miss  Gay,  we  demand  seeing  you,  without  in- 
tervening barriers.  Our  orders  are  imperative,”  said  he 
who  seemed  to  be  the  spokesman  of  the  delegation. 

“Then  wait  a moment,’-  I amiably  responded.  Going 
to  my  mother  I repeated  in  substance  the  above  colloquy, 
and  asked  her  if  she  would  go  with  me  out  of  one  of  the 
back  doors  and  around  the  house  into  the  front  yard.  Al- 
though greatly  agitated  and  trembling,  she  readily  assen- 
ted, and  we  noiselessly  went  out.  In  a few  moments  we 
announced  our  presence,  and  our  visitors  descended  the 
steps  and  joined  us.  And  those  men,  occupying  a belli- 
gerent attitude  towards  ourselves  and  all  that  was  dear  to 
us,  stood  face  to  face  with  us  and  in  silence  we  contem- 
plated each  other.  When  the  silence  was  broken  the 
aforesaid  officer  introduced  himself  as  Major  Campbell, 
a member  of  General  Schofield’s  staff.  He  also  intro- 
duced the  accompanying  officers  each  by  name  and  title. 
This  ceremony  over,  Major  Campbell  said: 

“Miss  Gay,  our  mission  is  a painful  one,  and  yet  we 
will  have  to  carry  it  out  unless  you  satisfactorily  explain 
acts  reported  to  us.” 

“What  is  the  nature  of  those  acts?” 

“We  have  been  told  that  it  is  your  proudest  boast 
that  you  are  a rebel,  and  that  you  are  ever  on  duty  to 


130 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


aid  and  abet  in  every  possible  way  the  would-be  destroy- 
ers of  the  United  States  government.  If  this  be  so,  we 
can  not  permit  you  to  remain  within  our  lines.  Until 
Atlanta  surrenders,  Decatur  will  be  our  headquarters, 
and  every  consideration  of  interest  to  our  cause  requires 
that  no  one  inimical  to  it  should  remain  within  our  boun- 
daries established  by  conquest.” 

In  reply  to  these  charges,  I said : 

“Gentlemen,  I have  not  been  misrepresented,  so  far 
as  the  charges  you  mention  are  concerned.  If  I were  a 
man,  I should  be  in  the  foremost  ranks  of  those  who  are 
fighting  for  rights  guaranteed  by  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States.  The  Southern  people  have  never  broken 
that  compact,  nor  infringed  upon  it  in  any  way.  They 
have  never  organized  mobs  to  assassinate  any  portion  of 
the  people  sharing  the  privileges  granted  by  that  com- 
pact. They  have  constructed  no  underground  railroads 
to  bring  into  our  midst  incendiaries  and  destroyers  of  the 
peace,  and  to  carry  off  stolen  property.  They  have  never 
sought  to  array  the  subordinate  element  of  the  North  in 
deadly  hostility  to  the  controlling  element.  No  class  of 
the  women  of  the  South  have  ever  sought  positions  at  the 
North  which  secured  entrance  into  good  households,  and 
then  betrayed  the  confidence  reposed  by  corrupting  the 
servants  and  alienating  the  relations  between  the  master 
and  the  servant.  No  class  of  the  women  of  the  South 
have  ever  mounted  the  rostrum  and  proclaimed  false- 
hoods against  the  women  of  the  North — falsehoods  which 
must  have  crimsoned  with  shame  the  very  cheeks  of 
Beelzebub. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


131 


“No  class  of  the  men  of  the  South  have  ever  tramped 
over  the  North  with  humbugs,  extorting  money  either 
through  sympathy  or  credulity,  and  engaged  at  the  same 
time  in  the  nefarious  work  of  exciting  the  subordinate 
class  to  insurrection,  arson,  rapine  and  murder.  If  the 
South  is  in  rebellion,  a well-organized  mob  at  the  North 
has  brought  it  about.  Long  years  of  patient  endurance 
accomplished  nothing.  The  party  founded  on  falsehood 
and  hate  strengthened  and  grew  to  enormous  proportions. 
And,  by  the  way,  mark  the  cunning  of  that  party.  Find- 
ing that  the  Abolition  party  made  slow  progress  and  had  1/ 
to  work  in  the  dark,  it  changed  its  name  and  took  in  new 
issues,  and  by  a systematic  course  of  lying  in  its  institu- 
tions of  learning,  from  the  lowly  school-house  to  Yale 
College,  and  from  its  pulpits  and  rostrums,  it  inculcated 
lessons  of  hate  towards  the  Southern  people  whom  it 
would  hurl  into  the  crater  of  Vesuvius  if  endowed  with 
the  power.  What  was  left  us  to  do  but  to  try  to  relieve 
that  portion  of  the  country  which  had  permitted  this  senti- 
ment of  hate  to  predominate,  of  all  connection  with  us, 
and  of  all  responsibility  for  the  sins  of  which  it  proclaim- 
ed us  guilty?  This  effort  the  South  has  made,  and  I have 
aided  and  abetted  in  every  possible  manner,  and  will  con- 
tinue to  do  so  just  as  long  as  there  is  an  armed  man  in  the 
Southern  ranks.  If  this  be  sufficient  cause  to  expel  me 
from  my  home,  I await  your  orders.  I have  no  favors  to 
ask.” 

Imagine  my  astonishment,  admiration  and  gratitude, 
when  that  group  of  Federal  officers,  with  unanimity 
said : 

“I  glory  in  your  spunk,  and  am  proud  of  you  as  my 


132 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


countrywoman ; and  so  far  from  banishing  you  from  your 
home,  we  will  vote  for  your  retention  within  our  lines.” 

Thus  the  truth  prevailed ; but  a new  phase  of  the  con- 
flict was  inaugurated,  as  proved  by  subsequent  develop- 
ments. 

Turning  to  my  mother,  Major  Campbell  said  : 

“Mother,  how  did  our  advance  guards  treat  you  ?” 

A quivering  of  the  lips,  and  a tearful  effort  to  speak, 
was  all  the  response  she  could  make.  The  aggravation  of 
already  extreme  nervousness  was  doing  its  work. 

“Would  you  like  to  see?”  I said.  He  indicated  rather 
then  expressed  an  affirmative  answer. 

I went  around  and  entered  the  house,  and,  opening  the 
front  door,  invited  him  and  his  friends  to  come  in.  A 
hindrance  to  the  exhibit  I was  anxious  to  make  presented 
itself — we  had  neither  candle  nor  lamp,  and  this  I told  to 
the  officers.  Calling  to  a man  in  the  nearest  camp,  Major 
Campbell  asked  him  to  bring  a light.  This  being  done, 
I lead  the  way  into  the  front  room,  and  there  our  dis- 
tinguished guests  were  confronted  by  a huge  pallet  occu- 
pied by  a sixteen-year-old  negro  boy.  A thrill  of  amuse- 
ment evidently  passed  through  this  group  of  western  men, 
and  electrical  glances  conveyed  messages  of  distrust  when 
I told  them  of  my  walk  yesterday  afternoon,  accompanied 
by  this  boy,  and  his  exhaustion  before  we  got  home,  and 
his  complaints  of  “hurting  all  over”  before  he  lay  down 
an  hour  ago. 

A low  consultation  was  held,  and  one  of  the  officers 
left  and  soon  returned  with  another  who  proved  to  be 
a physician.  He  aroused  the  boy,  asked  several  ques- 
tions, and  examined  his  pulse  and  tongue. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


133 


“That  will  do,”  said  he,  and  turning  to  the  others,  he 
said : 

“He  is  a very  sick  boy,  and  needs  medical  treatment 
at  once.  I will  prescribe  and  go  for  the  medicine,  which 
I wish  given  according  to  directions.” 

Having  received  a statement  of  the  boy’s  condition 
from  a trusted  source,  we  were  evidently  re-instated  into 
the  good  opinion  of  Major  Campbell  and  his  friends.  Te- 
litha  had  retired  from  them  to  as  great  a distance  as  the 
boundaries  of  the  room  would  permit,  and  every  time  she 
caught  my  eye  she  looked  and  acted  what  she  could  not 
express  in  words — utter  aversion  for  the  “Yank.” 

We  now  resumed  our  inspection  of  the  interior  of  the 
house.  The  contents  of  every  drawer  were  on  the  floor, 
every  article  of  value  having  been  abstracted.  Crockery 
scattered  all  over  the  room,  suggested  to  the  eye  that  it 
had  been  used  to  pelt  the  ghost  of  the  witches  burned  in 
Massachusetts  a century  or  two  ago.  Outrages  and  in- 
dignities too  revolting  to  mention  met  the  eye  at  every 
turn.  And  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  parlor  baffled  des- 
cription. Not  an  article  had  escaped  the  destroyer’s  touch 
but  the  piano,  and  circumstances  which  followed  proved 
that  that  was  regarded  as  a trophy  and  only  waited  re- 
moval. 

“Vandals!  Vandals!”  Major  Campbell  sorrowfully  ex- 
claimed, and  all  his  friends  echoed  the  opinion,  and  said : 

“If  the  parties  who  did  this  work  could  be  identified, 
we  would  hang  them  as  high  as  Hainan.” 

But  these  parties  were  never  identified.  They  were 
important  adjuncts  in  the  process  of  subjugation. 

After  wishing  that  the  worst  was  over  with  us,  these 


134 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


gentlemen,  who  had  come  in  no  friendly  mood,  bade  us 
good  night  and  took  their  leave.  Thus  the  Lord  of  Hosts, 
in  his  infinite  mercy,  furnished  a just  tribunal  to  pass 
judgment  upon  my  acts  as  a Southern  woman,  and  that 
judgment,  influenced  by  facts  and  surroundings,  was  just 
and  the  verdict  humane. 


DURING  THE  1 VAR. 


185 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Battle  of  the  22d  of  July,  1864 — The  Death  of  Toby. 

The  excitement  incident  to  the  morning  and  evening 
of  yesterday  left  my  mother  and  myself  in  no  frame  of 
mind  for  repose,  and  we  spent  the  night  in  suspense  and 
painful  apprehenson  of  trouble  yet  to  come  greater  and 
more  dreadful  than  that  through  which  we  had  passed. 
The  medicine  left  for  Toby  by  the  physician  summoned 
last  night  was  faithfully  administered  according  to  direc- 
tion, and  the  morning  found  him  better,  though  able  to 
sit  up  only  for  a short  while  at  a time.  Measles  had  de- 
veloped, and  we  felt  hopeful  that  it  would  prove  to  be  a 
very  slight  attack ; and  such  it  might  have  been  could  we 
have  controlled  him  properly,  but  the  excitement  and  ever 
varying  scenes  in  the  yard,  and  as  far  as  vision  extended, 
were  so  new  and  strange  to  him  that,  when  unobserved, 
he  spent  much  of  his  time  at  a window,  commanding  the 
best  view  of  the  scene,  and  thus  exposed  to  a current  of 
air,  the  disease  ceased  to  appear  on  the  surface  and  a 
troublesome  cough  ensued. 

Having  been  without  food  since  the  preceding  morn- 
ing, our  thoughts  turned  to  the  usual  preparation  for 
breakfast,  but  alas,  these  preparations  had  to  be  dispensed 
of,  as  we  had  nothing  to  prepare.  This  state  of  affairs 
furnished  food  for  at  least  serious  reflection,  and  the  in- 
quiry, “What  are  we  to  do?”  found  audible  expression. 


136 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


The  inexorable  demands  of  hunger  could  not  be  stifled,  and 
we  knew  that  the  sick  boy  needed  hot  tea  and  the  nourish- 
ment which  food  alone  could  give,  and  yet  we  had  noth- 
ing for  ourselves  or  for  him — so  complete  had  been  the 
robbery  of  the  ‘‘advance  guards”  of  the  Grand  Army  of 
the  Republic  that  not  a thing,  animate  or  inanimate,  re- 
mained with  which  to  appease  our  hunger.  “What  are 
we  to  do  ?”  was  iterated  and  reiterated,  and  no  solution  of 
the  question  presented  itself.  Even  then  appetizing  odors 
from  the  camp-fires  were  diffusing  themselves  upon  the 
air  and  entering  our  house,  but  aliens  were  preparing  the 
food  and  we  had  no  part  in  it.  We  debated  this  question, 
and  finally  resolved  not  to  expose  ourselves  to  the  jeers 
and  insults  of  the  enemy  by  an  act  of  ours  that  would 
seem  to  ask  for  food ; but  that  we  would  go  to  our  South- 
ern citizens  in  the  war-stricken  and  almost  deserted  town, 
and,  if  they  were  not  completely  robbed,  ask  them  to 
share  their  supplies  with  us  until  we  could  procure  aid 
from  outside  of  the  lines  so  arbitrarily  drawn. 

In  this  dilemma  an  unexpected  relief  came  to  us,  and 
convinced  us  that  there  was  good  even  in  Nazareth.  A 
large  tray,  evidently  well-filled,  and  covered  with  a snow- 
white  cloth,  was  brought  in  by  an  Irishman,  who  handed 
a card  to  my  mother  containing  these  words : 

“To  Mrs.  Stokes  and  daughter,  Miss  Gay,  with  com- 
pliments of  (Major)  Campbell. 

“Please  accept  this  small  testimonial  of  regard  and 
respectful  sympathy.” 

The  latter  part  of  the  brief  message  was  the  sesame 
that  secured  acceptance  of  this  offering,  and  my  mother 
and  myself  jointly  acknowledged  it  with  sincere  thanks, 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


137 


and  again  we  thought  of  Elijah  and  the  ravens.  The 
contents  of  the  tray — coffee,  sugar,  and  tea,  sliced  ham 
and  a variety  of  canned  relishes,  butter,  potatoes,  and 
oatmeal  and  bread,  were  removed  and  the  tray  returned. 
That  tray  on  its  humane  mission,  having  found  its  way 
into  our  house,  more  than  once  opportunely  reappeared. 
We  enjoyed  the  repast  thus  furnished,  although  briny 
tears  were  mingled  with  it. 

The  day  passed  without  any  immediate  adventure. 
Great  activity  prevailed  in  army  ranks.  The  coming 
and  going  of  cavalry;  the  clatter  of  sabre  and  spur; 
the  constant  booming  of  cannon  and  report  of  mus- 
ketry, all  convinced  us  that  the  surrender  of  Atlanta 
by  the  Confederates  was  quite  a matter  of  time.  A 
few  thousand  men,  however,  brave  and  gallant,  could 
not  cope  successfully  with  “three  hundred  thousand” 
who  ignored  every  usage  of  civilized  warfare,  and  fought 
only  for  conquest. 

I can  not  say  how  long  this  state  of  affairs  lasted 
before  Wheeler’s  Cavalry,  supported  by  Confederate  in- 
fantry, stole  a march  upon  the  Yankees  and  put  them 
to  flight.  Garrard  and  his  staff  officers  were  in  our  par- 
lor—their  parlor  pro  tem. — holding  a council ; the  team- 
sters and  army  followers  were  lounging  about  promis- 
cuously, cursing  and  swearing  and  playing  cards,  and 
seeming  not  to  notice  the  approaching  artillery  until 
their  attention  was  called  to  it,  and  then  they  contended 
that  it  was  their  men  firing  off  blank  cartridges.  I in- 
tuitively felt  that  a conflict  was  on  hand.  Ma  and  I held 
whispered  conversations  and  went  from  one  window  to 
another,  and  finally  rushed  into  the  yard.  Men  in  the 
camps  observed  our  excitement  and  said,  “Don’t  be 


138 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


alarmed,  it  is  only  our  men  firing  off  their  blank  cart- 
ridges.” 

The  irony  of  fate  was  never  more  signally  illus- 
trated than  on  this  occasion.  I would  have  laid  down 
my  life,  yea,  a thousand  breathing,  pulsing  lives  of  my 
own,  to  have  witnessed  the  overthrow  of  the  Yankee 
army,  and  yet,  I may  have  been  the  means  of  saving  a 
large  portion  of  it  on  that  occasion.  Dreading  for  my 
mother’s  sake  and  for  the  sake  of  the  deaf  girl  and  the 
sick  boy  ,an  attack  upon  the  forces  which  covered  our 
grounds,  I ran  to  one  of  the  parlor  doors  and  knocked 
heavily  and  excitedly.  An  officer  unlocked  the  door,  and 
opening  it  said: 

“What  is  it?” 

“Our  men  must  be  nearly  here,”  I replied. 

“Impossible,”  he  said,  and  yet,  with  a bound  he  was 
in  the  yard,  followed  in  quick  succession  by  each  member 
of  the  conclave. 

A signal,  long,  loud  and  shrill,  awakened  the  drowsy, 
and  scattered  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven  cards,  books 
and  papers ; and,  in  a few  minutes,  horses  and  mules  were 
hitched  to  wagons,  and  the  mules,  wagons  and  men  were 
fairly  flying  from  the  approach  of  the  Confederates. 
Women  and  children  came  pouring  in  from  every  direc- 
tion, and  the  house  was  soon  filled.  Before  Garrard’s 
wagon  train  was  three  hundred  yards  away,  our  yard 
was  full  of  our  men — our  own  dear  “Johnnie  Rebs.” 
Oothcaloga  Valley  boys,  whom  I had  known  from  baby- 
hood, kissed,  in  passing,  the  hand  that  waved  the  hand- 
kerchief. An  officer,  ah,  how  grand  he  looked  in  gray 
uniform,  came  dashing  up  and  said : 

“Go  in  your  cellar  and  lie  down;  the  Federals  are 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


139 


forming  a line  of  battle,  and  we,  too,  will  form  one  that 
will  reach  across  the  grounds,  and  your  house  will  be 
between  the  two  lines.  Go  at  once.” 

My  mother  ran  and  got  Toby’s  shoes  and  put  them 
on  for  him,  and  told  him  to  get  up  and  come  with  her, 
and  as  he  went  out  of  the  house  tottering,  I threw  a 
blanket  over  him,  and  he  and  Telitha  went  with  ma 
to  our  near  neighbor,  Mrs.  Williams,  her  cellar  being 
considered  safer  than  ours.  I remained  in  our  house 
for  the  twofold  purpose  of  taking  care  of  it,  if  possible, 
and  of  protecting,  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  the  precious 
women  and  children  who  had  fled  to  us  for  protection. 
Without  thought  of  myself  I got  them  all  into  the  room 
that  I thought  would  be  safest,  and  urged  them  to  lie 
down  upon. the  floor  and  not  to  move  during  the  battle. 
Shot  and  shell  flew  in  every  direction,  and  the  shingles 
on  the  roof  were  following  suit,  and  the  leaves,  and  the 
limbs,  and  the  bark  of  the  trees  were  descending  in 
showers  so  heavy  as  almost  to  obscure  the  view  of  the 
contending  forces.  The  roaring  of  cannon  and  the  sound 
of  musketry  blended  in  harmony  so  full  and  so  grand, 
and  the  scene  was  so  absorbing,  that  I thought  not  of 
personal  danger,  and  more  than  once  found  myself  out- 
side of  the  portals  ready  to  rush  into  the  conflict — for 
was  not  I a soldier,  enlisted  for  the  war?  Nor  was  I 
the  only  restless,  intrepid  person  in  the  house  on  that 
occasion.  An  old  lady,  in  whose  veins  flowed  the  blood 
of  the  Washingtons,  was  there,  and  it  was  with  the 
greatest  dfflculity  that  I restrained  her  from  going  out 
into  the  arena  of  warfare.  The  traditions  of  her  an- 
cestors were  so  interwoven  with  her  life,  that,  at  an  age 
bordering  on  four  score  years  and  ten,  they  could  not 


140 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


relax  their  hold  upon  her;  and  she  and  I might  have 
gone  in  opposite  directions  had  we  fled  to  the  ranks  of 
the  contending  armies. 

Mine  was,  no  doubt,  the  only  feminine  eye  that  wit- 
nessed the  complete  rout  of  the  Federals  on  that  occa- 
sion. At  first  I could  not  realize  what  they  were  doing, 
and  feared  some  strategic  movement ; but  the  “rebel  yell” 
and  the  flying  blue-coats  brought  me  to  a full  realiza- 
tion of  the  situation,  and  I,  too,  joined  in  the  loud  ac- 
claim of  victory.  And  the  women  and  children,  until  now 
panic-stricken  and  silent  as  death,  joined  in  the  rejoicing. 
All  the  discouragement  of  the  past  few  weeks  fled  from 
me,  and  hope  revived,  and  I was  happy,  oh,  so  happy ! 
I had  seen  a splendidly  equipped  army,  Schofield’s  di- 
vision, I think,  ignominiously  flee  from  a little  band  of 
lean,  lank,  hungry,  poorly-clad  Confederate  soldiers,  and 
I doubted  not  an  over-ruling  Providence  would  lead  us 
to  final  victory. 

When  the  smoke  of  the  battle  cleared  away,  my 
mother  and  her  ebony  charge  returned  home.  Toby 
quickly  sought  his  pallet,  and  burning  fever  soon  ren- 
dered him  delirious  the  greater  part  of  the  time.  In 
one  of  his  lucid  intervals,  he  asked  me  to  read  the  Bible 
to  him,  and  he  told  me  what  he  wanted  me  to  read  about, 
and  said : 

“Miss  Missouri  used  to  read  it  to  me,  and  I thought 
it  was  so  pretty.”  And  I read  to  him  the  story  of  the 
cross — of  Jesus’  dying  love,  and  he  listened  and  believed. 
I said  to  him : 

“My  boy,  do  you  think  you  are  going  to  die?” 

“Yes’m,  I think  I am.” 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


141 


I bowed  my  head  close  to  him  and  wept,  oh,  how 
bitterly. 

“Miss  Mary,  don’t  you  think  I’ll  go  to  heaven?”  he 
anxiously  asked. 

“Toby,  my  boy,  there  is  one  thing  I want  to  tell  you ; 
can  you  listen  to  me?” 

“Yes’m.” 

“I  have  not  always  been  just  to  you.  I have  often 
accused  you  of  doing  things  that  I afterwards  found  you 
did  not  do,  and  then  I was  not  good  enough  to  acknowl- 
edge that  I had  done  wrong.  And  when  you  did  wrong, 
I was  not  forgiving  enough ; and  more  than  once  I have 
punished  you  for  little  sins,  when  I,  with  all  the  light  be- 
fore me,  was  committing  greater  ones  every  day,  and 
going  unpunished,  save  by  a guilty  conscience.  And 
now,  my  boy,  I ask  you  to  forgive  me.  Can  you  do 
it?” 

“Oh,  yes’m!” 

Are  you  certain  that  you  do?  Are  you  sure  that 
there  is  no  unforgiving  spirit  in  you  towards  your  poor 
Miss  Mary,  who  is  sorry  for  all  she  has  ever  done  that 
was  wrong  towards  you.” 

“Oh,  yes’m !” 

“Then,  my  boy,  ask  the  Lord  to  forgive  you  for 
your  sins  just  as  I have  asked  you  to  forgive  me,  and  He 
will  do  it  for  the  sake  of  Jesus,  who  died  on  the  cross 
that  sinners  might  be  redeemed  from  their  sins  and  live 
with  Him  in  heaven.” 

I can  never  forget  the  ineffable  love,  and  faith,  and 
gratitude,  depicted  in  that  poor  boy’s  face,  while  I live ; 
and  as  I held  his  soft  black  hand  in  mine,  I thought 
of  its  willing  service  to  “our  boys,”  and  wept  to  think 


142 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


I could  do  no  more  for  him,  and  that  his  young  life 
was  going  out  before  he  knew  the  result  of  the  cruel  war 
that  was  waged  by  the  Abolistionists ! He  noticed  my 
grief,  and  begged  me  not  to  feel  so  badly,  and  added  that 
he  was  willing  to  die. 

I arose  from  my  position  by  his  bed  and  asked  him 
if  there  was  anything  in  the  world  I could  do  for  him. 
In  reply  he  said : 

“I  would  like  to  have  a drink  of  water  from  the 
Floyd  spring.” 

“You  shall  have  it,  my  boy,  just  as  soon  as  I can 
go  there  and  back,”  and  I took  a pitcher  and  ran  to 
the  spring  and  filled  and  refilled  it  several  times,  that 
it  might  be  perfectly  cool,  and  went  back  with  it  as 
quickly  as  possible.  He  drank  a goblet  full  of  this 
delicious  water  and  said  it  was  “so  good,”  and  then 
added : 

“You  drink  some,  too,  Miss  Mary,  and  give  Miss 
Polly  some.” 

I did  so,  and  he  was  pleased.  He  coughed  less  and 
complained  less  than  he  had  done  since  the  change  for 
the  worse,  and  I deluded  myself  into  the  hope  that  he 
might  yet  recover.  In  a short  while  he  went  to  sleep, 
and  his  breathing  became  very  hard  and  his  temperature 
indicated  a high  degree  of  fever.  I urged  my  mother  to 
lie  down,  and  assured  her  that  if  I thought  she  could 
do  anything  for  Toby  at  any  time  during  the  night  I 
would  call  her. 

I sat  there  alone  by  that  dying  boy.  Not  a move- 
ment on  his  part  betrayed  pain.  His  breathing  was  hard 
and  at  intervals  spasmodic.  With  tender  hands  I changed 
the  position  of  his  head,  and  for  a little  while  he  seemed 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


143 


to  breathe  easier.  But  it  was  only  for  a little  while, 
and  then  it  was  evident  that  soon  he  would  cease  to 
breathe  at  all.  I went  to  my  mother  and  waked  her 
gently,  and  told  her  I thought  the  end  was  near  with 
Toby,  and  hurried  back  to  him.  I thought  him  dead 
even  then ; but,  after  an  interval,  he  breathed  again  and 
again,  and  all  was  over.  The  life  had  gone  back  to  the 
God  who  gave  it,  and  I doubt  not  but  that  it  will  live 
with  Him  forever.  The  pathos  of  the  scene  can  never  be 
understood  by  those  who  have  not  witnessed  one  similar 
to  it  in  all  its  details,  and  I will  not  attempt  to  describe 
it.  No  timepiece  marked  the  hour,  but  it  was  about  mid- 
night, I ween,  when  death  set  the  spirit  of  that  youthful 
negro  free.  Not  a kindred  being  nor  a member  of  his 
own  race  was  near  to  lay  a loving  hand  upon  him,  or 
prepare  his  little  body  for  burial.  We  stood  and  gazed 
upon  him  as  he  lay  in  death  in  that  desolated  house,  and 
thought  of  his  fidelity  and  loving  interest  in  our  cause 
and  its  defenders,  and  of  his  faithful  service  in  our  ef- 
forts to  save  something  from  vandal  hands;  and  the 
fountain  of  tears  was  broken  up  and  we  wept  with  a 
peculiar  grief  over  that  lifeless  form. 

My  mother  was  the  first  to  become  calm,  and  she 
came  very  near  me  and  said,  as  if  afraid  to  trust  her 
voice : 

“Wouldn’t  it  be  well  to  ask  Eliza  Williams  and  others 
to  come  and  ‘lay  him  out  ?’  ” 

Before  acting  on  this  suggestion  I went  into  an- 
other room  and  waked  Telitha  and  took  her  into  the 
chamber  of  death.  A dim  and  glimmering  light  pre- 
vented her  from  taking  in  the  full  import  of  the  scene 


144 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


at  first ; but  I took  her  near  the  couch,  and,  pointing  to 
him,  I said  : 

“Dead !— Dead  !” 

She  repeated  interrogatively,  and,  when  she  fully 
realized  that  such  was  the  case,  her  cries  were  pitiable, 
oh,  so  pitiable. 

I .sank  down  upon  the  floor  and  waited  for  the  par- 
oxysm of  grief  to  subside,  and  then  went  to  her  and 
made  her  understand  that  I was  going  out  and  that  she 
must  stay  with  her  mistress  until  I returned.  An  hour 
later,  under  the  manipulation  of  good  “Eliza  Williams” — 
known  throughout  Decatur  as  Mrs.  Ammi  Williams’ 
faithful  servant — and  one  or  two  others  whom  she  brought 
with  her,  Toby  was  robed  in  a nice  white  suit  of  clothes 
prepared  for  the  occasion  by  the  faithful  hands  of  his 
“Miss  Polly,”  whom  he  had  loved  well,  and  who  had 
cared  for  him  in  his  orphanage. 

We  had  had  intimation  that  the  Federals  would 
again  occupy  Decatur,  and  as  soon  as  day  dawned  I went 
to  see  Mr.  Robert  Jones,  Sen.,  and  got  him  to  make 
a coffin  for  Toby,  and  I then  asked  “Uncle  Mack,”  and 
“Henry” — now  known  as  Decatur’s  Henry  Oliver — to 
dig  the  grave.  Indeed,  these  two  men  agreed  to  attend 
to  the  matter  of  his  burial.  After  consultation  with 
my  mother,  it  was  agreed  that  that  should  take 
place  as  soon  as  all  things  were  in  readiness.  Mr. 
Jones  made  a pretty,  well-shaped  coffin  out  of  good  heart 
pine,  and  the  two  faithful  negro  men  already  mentioned 
prepared  with  care  the  grave.  When  all  was  in  readiness, 
the  dead  boy  was  placed  in  the  coffin  and  borne  to  the 
grave  by  very  gentle  hands. 

Next  to  the  pall-bearers  my  mother  and  myself  and 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


145 


Telitha  fell  in  line,  and  then  followed  the  few  negroes 
yet  remaining  in  the  town,  and  that  funeral  cortege  was 
complete. 

At  the  grave  an  unexpected  and  most  welcome 
stranger  appeared.  “Uncle  Mack”  told  me  he  was  a min- 
ister, and  would  perform  the  funeral  service — and  grand- 
ly did  he  do  it.  The  very  soul  of  prayer  seemed  em- 
bodied in  this  negro  preacher’s  invocation ; nor  did  he 
forget  Toby’s  “nurses,”  and  every  consolation  and  bless- 
ing was  besought  for  them.  And  thus  our  Toby  received 
a Christian  burial. 


146 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
everett's  desertion. 

During  the  early  spring  of  that  memorable  year,  1864, 
it  was  announced  to  the  citizens  of  Decatur  that  Judge 
Hook  and  family,  including  his  accomplished  daughter, 
Mrs.  Whitesides,  and  her  children,  from  Chattanooga, 
had  arrived  at  the  depot,  and  were  domiciled,  pro  tem., 
in  cars  which  had  been  switched  off  the  main  track  of 
the  famous  old  Georgia  Railroad.  This  novel  mode  of 
living,  even  in  war  times,  by  people  in  their  monetary 
condition  and  social  standing,  naturally  attracted  much 
attention,  and  brought  us  to  a full  realization  of  ap- 
proaching danger.  That  this  family,  accustomed  to  all 
the  luxuries  of  an  elegant  home,  should  live  in  such  an 
abode,  with  its  attendant  privations,  was  convincing  proof 

that  the  home  thev  had  abandoned  had  become  intolerable 
■ ' 

because  of  the  proximity  of  the  enemy ; and  it  was  also 
fearfully  suggestive  that  that  ubiquitous  enemy  was  ex- 
tending his  dominion  and  bringing  the  fiery,  bloody  con- 
flict into  the  very  heart  of  the  “rebellion.” 

A rebellion,  by  way  of  parenthesis,  which  impartial 
historians  will  put  on  record  as  the  grandest  uprising 
of  a long  suffering  people  that  was  ever  known  in  the 
annals  of  nations;  “a  mutiny”  (as  that  chief  of  South- 
ern haters,  John  Lathrop  Motley,  whose  superb  egotism 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


147 


impressed  him  with  the  idea  that  his  influence  could 
change  the  political  trend  of  Great  Britain  towards  the 
South,  has  seen  proper  to  denominate  it)  in  the  camp 
of  American  councils  brought  about  by  unceasing  abuse 
of  the  Southern  States  by  political  tricksters,  whose  only 
hope  of  survival  lay  in  the  hatred  for  the  South  thus  en- 
gendered. 

The  coming  of  Judge  Hook’s  family  was  hailed  with 
pleasure  by  all  good  and  loyal  citizens,  and  was  a liga- 
ment connecting  more  closely  States  suffering  in  a com- 
mon cause ; and  we  all  called  upon  them  and  soon  num- 
bered them  with  our  intimate  friends.  Mrs.  Whitesides 
and  Miss  Hook  were  effective  workers  in  all  that  bene- 
fited our  soldiers  or  their  families. 

Judge  Hook  was  superintendent  of  the  Government 
Iron  Works,  and  literally  brought  the  foundry  as  well  as 
the  operatives  with  him.  Among  the  latter  was  a man  by 
the  name  of  Everett,  who,  with  his  family,  consisting  of 
his  wife  and  five  children,  occupied  an  old  one-room  house 
near  a corner  of  our  home  lot.  Although  a hearty,  hale, 
and  rather  good-looking  man,  Everett  was  very  poor,  and 
the  first  time  I ever  saw  his  wife  she  came  to  borrow 
“a  little  flour.”  As  my  mother  never  turned  away  from 
a borrower,  Mrs.  Everett’s  vessel  was  filled  to  overflow- 
ing, and,  besides,  a pitcher  of  buttermilk  and  a plate  of 
butter  was  given  to  her,  for  which  she  was  extremely 
grateful. 

An  acquaintance  thus  begun  continued  during  the 
spring  and  early  summer  months,  and  there  was  not  a 
day  during  that  period  that  my  mother  did  not  find  it 


148 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


convenient  to  do  something  for  this  family.  Mrs.  Everett 
was  more  than  ordinarily  intelligent  for  a person  in  her 
position,  and  the  blush  which  mantled  her  pretty  cheeks 
when  she  asked  for  anything  betrayed  her  sensibility ; and 
her  children  were  pretty  and  sweet-mannered.  I never 
saw  Everett,  only  as  I met  him  going  and  coming  from 
his  work,  and  on  those  occasions  he  showed  the  greatest 
respect  for  me  by  taking  off  his  hat  as  he  approached  me, 
and  holding  it  in  his  hand  until  he  had  fully  passed.  He 
seemed  to  be  a steady  worker,  and  if  he  ever  lost  a day  I 
never  heard  of  it ; and  Mrs.  Everett  was  industrious,  but 
much  of  the  time  unemployed  for  lack  of  material  with 
which  to  work,  and  she  often  begged  for  something  to  do. 
She  was  anxious  to  work  for  our  soldiers,  and  told  me 
that  all  of  her  male  relatives  were  in  the  Confederate 
army.  This  circumstance  endeared  her  very  much  to 
me ; and  I made  the  support  of  his  family  very  much 
easier  to  Everett  than  it  would  have  been  had  he  lived 
in  a non-appreciative  neighborhood.  And  when  the  vil- 
lage girls  met  at  our  house  to  practice  for  concerts  for 
the  benefit  of  our  soldiers,  which  they  did  almost  weekly, 
I never  forgot  that  Mrs.  Everett’s  brothers  were  in  our 
army  fighting  valiantly,  no  doubt,  for  our  cause,  and  I 
always  asked  her  to  come  and  bring  her  children  to  my 
room  and  listen  with  me  to  the  sweet  music  and  patriotic 
songs. 

As  time  sped,  many  opportunities  for  witnessing  Mrs. 
Everett’s  devotion  to  her  native  land  presented  them- 
selves ; and  her  service  to  its  defenders,  though  humble 
and  unobtrusive,  was  valuable.  Her  children,  too,  always 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


149 


spoke  lovingly  of  our  soldiers,  and  were  never  more 
happy  than  when  doing  something  for  them.  At  length 
the  time  came  for  another  move  of  the  foundry,  and 
quietly,  as  if  by  magic,  it  and  its  appurtenants,  under 
the  judicious  management  of  Judge  Hook,  got  on  wheels 
and  ran  at  the  rate  of  thirty-five  miles  an  hour  until  it 
reached  Augusta — another  haven  of  rest  invested  with 
heavenly  beauty.  After  the  departure  of  this  important 
adjunct  to  this  portion  of  the  Confederacy,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  Everett  and  his  family  remained  in  Decatur. 
And  a remarkable  change  came  over  them.  Instead  of 
the  free-spoken,  unsophisticated  woman  that  she  had 
always  appeared  to  be,  Mrs.  Everett  became  reserved  C"' 
and  taciturn,  and  seldom  left  the  enclosure  by  which  her 
humble  dwelling  was  surrounded.  And  the  children 
ceased  to  cheer  us  by  their  merry  prattle  and  daily  trip 
for  a pitcher  of  buttermilk,  which,  under  the  changed 
and  unexplained  circumstances,  my  mother  sent  to  them. 

On  the  never-to-be-forgotten  19th  of  July,  1864,  when 
a portion  of  Sherman’s  army  dashed  into  Decatur,  it  ob- 
tained a recruit.  In  an  incredibly  short  time,  Everett 
was  arrayed  in  the  uniform  of  a Yankee  private,  and  was 
hustling  around  with  the  Yankees  as  if  “to  the  manner 
born.” 

On  the  22 d of  July  when  the  Confederates  ran  the 
Yankees  out  of  the  little  village  they  had  so  pompously 
occupied  for  a few  days,  Everett  disappeared,  and  so  did 
his  family  from  the  little  house  on  the  corner.  I sup- 
posed they  had  left  Decatur,  until  I went  out  in  town  to 
see  if  I could  hear  anything  from  the  victors — their 


150 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


losses,  etc. — when  by  chance  I discovered  that  they  had 
taken  shelter  in  the  old  post-office  building  on  the  north- 
east corner  of  the  courthouse  square. 

The  morning  after  the  hurried  evacuation  of  Decatur 
by  the  Federal  troops,  I arose,  as  was  my  custom,  as 
day  was  dawning,  and,  as  soon  as  I thought  I could 
distinguish  objects,  I opened  the  front  door  and  stepped 
out  on  the  portico.  As  I stood  looking  upon  the  ruin 
and  devastation  of  my  war-stricken  home,  imagine  my 
surprise  and  consternation  when  I saw  a white  handker- 
chief held  by  an  invisible  hand  above  a scuppernong  grape 
arbor.  My  first  impulse  was  to  seek  security  within 
closed  doors,  but  the  thought  occurred  to  me  that  some 
one  might  be  in  distress  and  needed  aid.  I therefore 
determined  to  investigate  the  case.  In  pursuance  of  this 
object  I went  down  the  steps  and  advanced  several  yards 
in  the  direction  of  the  waving  signal,  and  asked : 

“Who  is  there?” 

“Come  a little  nearer,  please,”  was  the  distinct  answer. 

“I  am  near  enough  to  hear  you ; what  can  I do  for 
you  ?”  I said,  and  did  go  a little  nearer. 

“Miss  Mary,  don’t  be  afraid  of  me ; I would  die 
for  you  and  such  as  you,  but  I can  not  die  for  a lost 
cause” — and  through  an  opening  in  the  foliage  of  the 
vines,  which  were  more  on  the  ground  than  on  the 
scaffolding,  a head  protruded — handsome  brown  eyes  and 
dark  whiskers  included — Everett’s  head,  in  all  the  natural- 
ness of  innocence. 

I thought  of  his  wife  and  of  his  children,  and  of  his 
wife’s  brothers  in  the  Confederate  army,  and  again  asked 
with  deliberation : 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


151 


“What  can  I do  for  you  ?” 

“Bless  me  or  curse  me,”  was  the  startling  answer,  and 
he  continued : 

“Your  kindness  to  my  wife  and  children  has  nerved 
me  to  come  to  you  and  ask  that  you  will  aid  me  in  seeing 
them,  especially  her.  Will  you  do  it?" 

• “Yes,  though  I despise  you  for  the  step  you  have 
taken,  I will  grant  your  request.  Don’t  be  afraid  that  I 
will  betray  you.” 

“Where  shall  I go?”  he  asked,  with  a perceptible 
tremor  in  his  voice. 

“While  I am  out  here  seeming  to  prop  up  these  shrubs, 
make  your  way  to  the  kitchen  and  enter  its  front  door, 
and  don’t  close  it  after  you,  but  let  it  remain  wide  open. 
But  be  still  until  I tell  you  to  start.” 

As  if  going  for  something,  I walked  hastily  around 
the  house  and  kitchen,  and  entering  the  latter  brought  out 
an  old  hoe,  and  seemed  to  use  it  quite  industriously  in 
banking  up  earth  around  fallen  shrubbery.  Watching 
an  opportunity — for  in  those  war  times  all  things,  animate 
and  inanimate,  seemed  to  have  ears — I said : 

“When  I go  into  the  house,  you  must  go  into  the 
kitchen,  and  be  certain  to  let  the  doors  remain  open.” 

I never  knew  how  Everett  made  his  journey,  whether 
upright  as  a man,  or  upon  all-fours  like  a beast. 

From  sheer  exhaustion  my  poor  mother  was  sleeping 
still,  and  Toby’s  breathing  and  general  appearance  as  he 
lay  upon  his  pallet,  plainly  indicated  the  presence  of  deep- 
seated  disease.  I looked  around  for  Telitha,  and  not 
seeing  her,  went  into  the  dining-room  where  I found  her 


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sitting  by  a window.  By  unmistakable  signs  she  made 
me  understand  that  she  had  witnessed  the  entire  proceed- 
ing connected  with  Everett  through  the  window  blinds. 

Soon  the  loud  tramping  of  horses’  feet  caused  me  to 
run  again  to  the  front  door,  and  I beheld  a number  of  our 
scouts  approaching.  I went  to  meet  them  and  shook 
hands  with  every  one  of  them.  No  demonstration,  how- 
ever enthusiastic,  could  have  been  an  exaggeration  of 
my  joy  on  again  seeing  our  men,  our  dear  Confederate 
soldiers,  and  yet  I thought  of  Everett  and  trembled. 

“Have  you  seen  any  Billy  Yanks  this  morning?”  was 
asked  by  several  of  them  ; and  I replied  : 

“No,  I have  not  seen  any  since  our  men  ran  them  out 
of  Decatur  yesterday.” 

“How  did  they  treat  you  while  they  were  here?” 

“You  see  the  devastation  of  the  place,”  I replied. 
“Personally  we  escaped  violence ; but  I would  like  you 
to  go  into  the  house  and  see  the  condition  of  affairs 
there.” 

Said  they : 

“It  would  not  be  new  to  us.  We  have  seen  the  most 
wanton  destruction  of  property  and  household  goods 
wherever  they  have  gone.” 

“Do  wait  and  let  me  have  a pot  of  coffee  made  for 
you.  The  Yankees  gave  our  negro  girl  quite  a good  deal 
of  it,  and  not  using  it  herself,  she  gave  it  to  my  mother, 
and  I want  you  to  enjoy  some  of  it,”  I said.  They  re- 
plied : 

“Soldiers  can’t  wait  for  luxuries.” 

“Good-bye  and  God  bless  you,”  was  their  parting 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


153 


benediction.  And  then,  as  if  impelled  by  some  strange 
inspiration,  they  galloped  round  to  the  well.  I ran  into  the 
house  and  got  several  tumblers  and  fairly  flew  out  there 
with  them,  as  there  was  no  gourd  at  the  well.  The  kitchen 
was  in  close  proximty,  and  the  door  stood  invitingly  open. 
What  if  a bare  suspicion  should  prompt  these  brave  men 
to  enter?  Alas!  All  would  be  up  with  the  poor  mis- 
creant who  had  thrown  himself  upon  my  mercy,  and  who 
was  even  then  lurking  there  under  my  direction.  But, 
thank  the  good  Lord,  they  did  not  enter,  and  after  again 
invoking  God’s  blessing  upon  me,  they  galloped  off  in  a 
southerly  direction ; and  never  did  retreating  sounds  give 
greater  relief. 

I went  into  the  house.  My  mother,  thoroughly  ex- 
hausted, and  perhaps  discouraged,  chose  to  remain  in  bed, 
and  as  she  lay  gazing  intently  upon  the  wall  above  her, 
I doubt  if  she  saw  it,  so  intense  was  her  absorbtion.  As 
Telitha  by  this  time  had  a fire  made  in  the  dining-room, 
I prepared  a pot  of  good  strong  coffee,  and  after  par- 
taking of  the  exhilarating  beverage  myself,  and  seeing 
that  each  of  the  household  was  supplied,  I took  the  re- 
mainder with  necessary  adjuncts  to  Everett.  Never  will 
I forget  his  appearance  as  we  stood  face  to  face — he 
a miserable  deserter  from  the  cause  I loved,  and  the  recip- 
ient of  favors  I scorned  myself  for  bestowing.  I told 
him  I would  go  at  once  for  his  wife,  and  that  after  seeing 
her  he  must  make  his  way  into  the  enemy’s  lines  as  soon 
as  possible. 

A few  minutes  sufficed  to  carry  me  to  Mrs.  Everett’s 
retreat,  already  mentioned.  I sat  down  on  the  front  door- 


154 


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steps  and  drew  from  my  pocket  a news  paper,  which 
chanced  to  be  there,  and  commenced  reading  aloud.  At 
length  I saw  that  my  presence  had  attracted  the  notice 
of  the  children,  and  I called  them.  One  by  one  they 
came  to  me,  and  I shook  hands  with  them  and  asked  them 
about  their  mother.  Hearing  my  voice  and  inquiries,  she 
spoke  to  me  most  pleasantly.  I asked  her  to  come  out 
and  take  a seat  by  me  on  the  steps.  She  did  so,  blush- 
inglv  and  timidly.  I wrote  on  the  margin  of  the  paper, 
“Send  the  children  away,”  and  handed  it  to  her.  She 
did  so.  Assured  that  they  were  not  in  hearing  distance, 
I held  the  paper  before  me,  and,  as  if  reading,  I told  her 
the  story  of  my  early  interview  with  her  husband ; of  his 
earnest  desire  to  see  her ; of  my  consent,  on  her  account, 
to  plan  a meeting  with  her ; of  his  secretion  in  our 
kitchen ; and  the  necessity  of  the  greatest  caution  in  our 
movements.  I told  her  that  after  walking  around  a little, 
and  exchanging  experiences  with  the  brave  ladies  of  the 
village,  she  would  see  me,  by  keeping  watch,  going 
home,  and  then  she  could  take  a little  basket  in  her  hand, 
as  if  going  for  something,  and  come  on  to  our  house.  She 
implicitly  followed  my  directions.  My  mother  received 
her  as  if  nothing  of  an  unpleasant  nature  had  transpired; 
and,  although  it  is  a very  difficult  problem,  and  never 
solved  without  the  aid  of  necromancy,  I undertook  to 
deduct  something  from  nothing,  and  so  far  succeeded 
that  I had  several  small  packages  to  lay  in  her  basket  as 
she  started.  Knowing  that  she  knew  the  way  to  the 
kitchen,  I gave  her  a wish  that  all  would  end  well,  and 
bade  her  good-bye,  never,  doubtless,  to  meet  her  again 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


155 


on  earth.  The  tears  flowed  plenteously  down  her  cheeks, 
and  her  tongue  refused  to  speak,  but  the  pressure  of  her 
hand  attested  gratitude,  and  affection,  and  farewell.  I 
got  a glimpse  of  her  as  she  went  out  of  the  alley  gate ; 
but  I never  knew  when  her  husband  abandoned  his  hiding 
place.  I heard  that  about  dusk  a Federal  army  wagon, 
under  protection  of  a company  of  troops,  came  and  took 
her  and  her  little  children  out  of  Decatur. 


158 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


A visit  to  Confederate  lines — A narrow  escape — My  return — 
The  fall  of  Atlanta. 

No  news  from  “the  front” ; no  tidings  from  the  loved 
ones  in  gray ; no  friendly  spirit  whispering  words  of 
cheer  or  consolation.  Shut  up  within  a narrow  space, 
and  guarded  by  Federal  bayonets ! not  a ray  of  friendly 
light  illuminated  my  environment. 

The  constant  roar  of  cannon  and  rattling  of  mus- 
ketry ; the  thousand,  yea,  tens  of  thousands  of  shots  blend- 
ing into  one  grand  continuous  whole,  and  reverberating 
in  avalanchan  volume  over  the  hills  of  Fulton,  and  the 
mountain  heights  of  old  DeKalb — told  in  thunder  tones 
of  the  fierce  contest  between  Federal  and  Confederate 
forces  being  waged  without  intermission  for  the  posses- 
sion of  Atlanta. 

The  haughty,  insolent  boast  of  the  enemy,  now  that 
Joe  Johnston  was  removed  from  the  command  of  the 
Army  of  the  Tennessee,  that  they  would  make  quick 
work  of  the  rebellion,  and  of  the  complete  subjugation 
of  the  South,  had  in  no  way  a tendency  to  mitigate  anxiety 
or  to  encourage  hope.  Thus  surrounded,  I sought  and 
obtained  permission  to  read  Federal  newspapers.  The 
United  States  mail  brought  daily  papers  to  the  officers  in 
command  of  the  forces  quartered  in  our  yard ; and 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


157 


through  this  medium  I kept  posted,  from  a Northern 
standpoint,  concerning  the  situation  of  both  armies. 
While  there  was  little  in  these  dispatches  gratifying  to 
me,  there  was  much  that  I thought  would  be  valuable  to 
my  people  if  I could  only  convey  it  to  them ; and  I racked 
my  brain  day  and  night,  devising  ways  and  means  by 
which  to  accomplish  this  feat.  But  the  ways  and  means 
decided  upon  were,  upon  reflection,  invariably  abandoned 
as  being  impracticable. 

In  this  dilemma,  a most  opportune  circumstance  of- 
fered an  immediate  solution  of  the  difficult  problem.  In 
the  midst  of  a deep  study  of  the  relative  positions  of 
the  two  armies,  and  of  the  hopes  and  -fears  animating 
both,  a tall,  lank,  honest-faced  Yankee  came  to  the  door 
of  the  portico  and  asked  “if  Miss  Gay  was  in.” 

I responded  that  I was  she,  and  he  handed  me  a letter 
addressed  to  myself.  I hastily  tore  it  open  and  read  the 
contents.  It  was  written  by  a reverend  gentleman,  whose 
wife  was  a distant  relative  of  my  mother,  and  told  that 
she  was  very  ill.  “Indeed,”  wrote  he,  “I  have  but  little 
hope  of  ever  seeing  her  any  better,  and  I beg  you  to  come 
to  see  her,  and  spend  several  days.” 

I showed  the  letter  to  my  mother,  who  was  sitting 
near  by,  and,  like  myself,  engaged  in  studying  the  situa- 
tion. She  strenuously  objected  to  my  going,  and  advanced 
many  good  reasons  for  my  not  doing  so ; but  my  reasons 
for  going  outweighed  them  all  in  my  estimation,  and  I 
determined  to  go. 

Taking  Telitha  with  me,  I carried  the  letter  to  the 
Provost  Marshal,  and  asked  him  to  read  it  and  grant 


158 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


me  the  privilege  of  going.  After  reading  the  letter,  he 
asked  me  how  I obtained  it,  and  received  my  statement. 
He  then  asked  me  if  I could  refer  him  to  the  party  who 
brought  it  to  me.  Leaving  the  letter  with  him,  I ran 
home  and  soon  returned  with  the  desired  individual,  who 
had  fortunately  lingered  in  the  yard  in  anticipation  of  use- 
fulness. Convinced  that  the  invitation  was  genuine,  and 
for  a humane  purpose,  this  usually  morose  marshal  grant- 
ed me  “a  permit”  to  visit  those  poor  old  sick  people,  for 
the  husband  was  almost  as  feeble  as  his  wife.  I told  the 
obliging  marshal  that  there  was  another  favor  I should 
like  to  ask  of  him,  if  he  would  not  think  me  too  pre- 
sumptuous. “Name  it’,’  he  said.  I replied: 

“Will  you  detail  one  or  more  of  the  soldiers  to  act  as 
an  escort  for  me?  I am  afraid  to  go  with  only  this 
girl.” 

To  this  he  also  assented,  and  said  it  was  a wise  pre- 
caution. He  asked  when  I wished  to  come  home. 

“Day  after  to-morrow  afternoon,”  I told  him,  and  re- 
ceived the  assurance  that  an  escort  would  be  in  waiting 
for  me  at  that  time. 

It  now  became  necessary  to  make  some  important 
preparations  for  the  trip.  A great  deal  was  involved,  and 
if  my  plans  were  successful,  important  events  might  ac- 
crue. A nice  white  petticoat  was  called  into  requisition, 
and,  when  I got  done  with  it,  it  was  literally  lined  with 
Northern  newspapers.  “The  Cincinnati  Enquirer,”  and 
“The  New  York  Daily  Times”  ; “The  Cincinnati  Commer- 
cial Gazette,”  and  “The  Philadelphia  Evening  Ledger,” 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


]59 


under  the  manipulation  of  my  fingers,  took  their  places 
on  the  inner  sides  and  rear  of  the  skirt,  and  served  as  a 
very  stylish  “bustle,”  an  article  much  in  vogue  in  those 
days.  This  preparatory  work  having  been  accomplished, 
it  required  but  a few  moments  to  complete  my  toilet,  and, 
under  the  auspices  of  a clear  conscience  and  a mother’s 
blessing,  doubtless,  I started  on  a perilous  trip.  The 
ever-faithful  Telitha  was  by  my  side,  and  the  military 
escort  a few  feet  in  advance. 

After  a walk  of  a mile  and  a half,  I reached  my  des- 
tination for  that  day.  I found  the  old  lady  in  question 
much  better  than  I had  expected.  Nervous  and  sick  him- 
self, her  husband  had  greatly  exaggerated  her  afflictions. 
By  degrees,  and  under  protest,  I communicated  to  these 
aged  people  my  intention  of  carrying  information  to 
Hood’s  headquarters,  that  might  be  of  use  to  our  army. 
I knew  that  these  good  old  people  would  not  betray  me, 
even  though  they  might  not  approve  my  course,  and  I 
confided  to  them  my  every  plan.  Both  were  troubled 
about  the  possible  result  if  I should  be  detected;  but  my 
plans  were  laid,  and  nothing  could  deter  me  from  pur- 
suing them. 

The  rising  sun  of  another  day  saw  Telitha  and  me 
starting  on  our  way  to  run  the  gauntlet,  so  to  speak,  of 
Federal  bayonets.  These  good  old  people  had  given  me 
much  valuable  information  regarding  the  way  to  At- 
lanta— information  which  enabled  me  to  get  there  without 
conflict  with  either  Confederate  or  Federal  pickets. 
Knowing  the  topography  of  the  country,  I took  a cir- 
cuitous route  to  an  old  mill ; Cobb’s,  I believe,  and  from 


160 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


there  I sought  the  McDonough  road.  I didn’t  venture 
to  keep  that  highway  to  the  city,  but  I kept  within  sight 
of  it,  and  under  cover  of  breastworks  and  other  obstruc- 
tions, managed  to  evade  videttes  and  pickets  of  both 
armies.  After  walking  fourteen  or  fifteen  miles,  I entered 
Atlanta  at  the  beautiful  home  of  Mrs.  L.  P.  Grant,  at  the 
southern  boundary  of  the  city.  That  estimable  lady  never 
lost  an  opportunity  of  doing  good.  The  lessons  of  hu- 
manity and  Christian  grace  impressed  upon  her  youthful 
mind,  and  intensified  by  the  life-long  example  of  her  de- 
voted mother,  Mrs.  Ammi  Williams,  of  Decatur,  had 
called  into  action  all  that  is  ennobling  in  woman.  On 
this  occasion,  as  upon  every  other  offering  an  opportunity, 
she  remembered  to  do  good.  She  ordered  an  appetizing 
lunch,  including  a cup  of  sure  enough  coffee,  which  re- 
freshed and  strengthened  me  after  my  long  walk.  Her 
butler  having  become  a familiar  personage  on  the  streets 
of  Atlanta,  she  sent  him  as  a guide  to  important  places. 
We  entered  the  city  unchallenged,  and  moved  about  at 
will.  The  force  of  habit,  probably,  led  me  to  Mrs.  Mc- 
Arthur’s and  to  Mrs.  Craig’s  on  Pryor  street;  and,  by 
the  way,  these  friends  still  own  the  same  property,  and 
occupy  almost  the  same  homes.  The  head  of  neither  of 
these  families  was  willing  to  accompany  me  to  Confeder- 
ate headquarters,  and  without  a guide  I started  to  hunt 
them  for  myself.  What  had  seemed  an  easy  task  now 
seemed  insurmountable.  I knew  not  in  what  direction  to 
go,  and  the  few  whom  I asked  seemed  as  ignorant  as  my- 
self. Starting  from  Mrs.  Craig’s,  I went  towards  the 
depot.  I had  not  proceeded  very  far  before  I met  Major 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


161 


John  Y.  Rankin.  I could  scarcely  restrain  tears  of  joy. 
He  was  a member  of  the  very  same  command  to  which 
my  brother  belonged.  From  Major  Rankin  I learned 
that  my  brother,  utterly  prostrated,  had  been  sent  to 
a hospital,  either  in  Augusta  or  Madison.  He  told  me 
many  other  things  of  interest,  which  I can  not  mention 
now,  unless  compiling  a history  instead  of  a series  of 
personal  reminiscences.  Preferring  not  to  stand  upon 
the  street,  I asked  Major  Rankin  to  return  with  me  to 
Mrs.  Craig’s,  which  he  did,  and  spent  an  hour  in  pleasant 
conversation.  Mrs.  Craig  was  a delightful  conversa- 
tionalist, and  while  she  was  entertaining  the  major  with 
that  fine  art,  I retired  to  a private  apartment,  and  with 
the  aid  of  a pair  of  scissors  ripped  off  the  papers  from 
my  underskirt  and  smoothed  and  folded  them  nicely,  and 
after  re-arranging  my  toilet,  took  them  into  the  parlor 
as  a trophy  of  skill  in  outwitting  the  Yankee.  Telitha, 
too,  had  a trophy  to  which  she  had  clung  ever  since  we 
left  home  with  the  tenacity  of  an  eel,  and  which  doubt- 
less she  supposed  to  be  an  offering  to  “Marse  Tom,”  and 
was  evidently  anxious  that  he  should  receive  it.  Having 
dismissed  Mrs.  Grant’s  butler  as  no  longer  necessary  to 
my  convenience,  Major  Rankin,  myself  and  Telitha  went 
direct  to  the  headquarters  of  his  command.  The  papers 
seemed  to  be  most  acceptable,  but  I noticed  that  the 
gleanings  from  conversation  seemed  far  more  so.  The 
hopefulness  and  enthusiasm  of  our  soldiers  were  inspir- 
ing. But  alas ! how  little  they  knew  of  the  situation,  and 
how  determined  not  to  be  enlightened.  Even  then  they 
believed  that  they  would  hold  Atlanta  against  Herculean 


162 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


odds,  and  scorned  the  idea  of  its  surrender.  At  length 
the  opening  of  Telitha’s  package  devolved  on  me.  Shirts, 
socks  and  soap,  towels,  gloves,  etc.,  formed  a compact 
bundle  that  my  mother  had  sent  to  our  soldiers.  Many 
cherry  words  were  said,  and  good-byes  uttered,  and  I left 
them  to  meet  once  more  under  very  different  circum- 
stances. 

I now  turned  my  thoughts  to  our  negroes,  who  were 
hired  in  different  parts  of  the  city.  Rachel,  the  mother 
of  King,  hired  herself  and  rented  a room  from  Mr.  John 
Silvey,  who  lived  upon  the  same  lot  on  Marietta  street 
upon  which  he  has  since  erected  his  present  elegant  resi- 
dence. In  order  that  I might  have  an  interview  with 
Rachel  without  disturbing  Mr.  Silvey’s  family,  I went  to 
the  side  gate  and  called  her.  She  answered  and  came 
immediately.  I asked  her  if  she  realized  the  great  danger 
to  which  she  was  continually  exposed.  Even  then  “shot 
and  shell”  were  falling  in  every  direction,  and  the  roar- 
ing of  cannon  was  an  unceasing  sound.  She  replied  that 
she  knew  the  danger,  and  thought  I was  doing  wrong  to 
be  in  Atlanta  when  I had  a home  to  be  at.  I insisted 
that  she  had  the  same  home,  and  a good  vacant  house 
was  ready  to  receive  her.  But  she  was  impervious  to 
every  argument,  and  preferred  to  await  the  coming  of 
Sherman  in  her  present  quarters.  Seeing  that  I had  no 
influence  over  her,  I bade  her  good-bye  and  left.  Telitha 
and  I had  not  gone  farther  than  the  First  Presbyterian 
church  (not  a square  away)  from  the  gate  upon  which 
I had  leaned  during  this  interview  with  Rachel,  before  a 
bombshell  fell  by  that  gate  and  burst  into  a thousand  frag- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


163 


ments,  literally  tearing  the  gate  into  pieces.  Had  I re- 
mained there  one  minute  longer,  my  mortal  being  would 
have  been  torn  to  atoms.  After  this  fearfully  impres- 
sive adventure,  unfortified  by  any  “permit”  I struck  a bee 
line  to  Mr.  Grant’s,  having  promised  her  that  I would  go 
back  that  way  and  stop  awhile.  An  old  negro  man  be- 
longing to  Mrs.  Williams,  who  had  “come  out”  on  a 
previous  occasion,  was  there,  and  wanted  to  return  under 
my  protection  to  his  home  within  the  enemy’s  lines.  Very 
earnest  assurances  from  Mrs.  Grant  to  that  effect  con- 
vinced me  that  I had  nothing  to  fear  from  betrayal  by 
him,  and  I consented  that  he  should  be  a member  of  my 
company  homeward  bound.  Two  large  packages  were 
ready  for  the  old  man  to  take  charge  of,  about  which  Mrs. 
Grant  gave  him  directions,  sotto  voce.  Putting  one  of 
them  on  the  end  of  a walking  cane  he  threw  it  over  his 
right  shoulder,  and  with  his  left  hand  picked  up  the  other 
bundle.  Telitha  and  I were  unencumbered.  With  a 
good  deal  of  trepidation  I took  the  advance  position  in  the 
line  of  march,  and  walked  briskly.  We  had  not  proceed- 
ed very  far  before  we  encountered  our  pickets.  No  argu- 
ment was  weighty  enough  to  secure  for  me  the  privi- 
lege of  passing  the  lines  without  an  official  permit.  Baf- 
fled in  this  effort,  I approved  the  action  of  the  pickets, 
and  we  turned  and  retraced  our  steps  in  the  direction 
of  Atlanta,  until  entirely  out  of  sight  of  them,  and  then 
we  turned  southward  and  then  eastward,  verging  a little 
northward.  Constant  vigilance  enabled  me  to  evade  the 
Yankee  pickets,  and  constant  walking  brought  me  safely 
to  the  home  of  my  aged  and  afflicted  friends,  from  which 


164 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


I had  started  early  in  the  morning  of  that  day.  Not 
being  tired,  I could  have  gone  home;  but  the  policy  of 
carrying  out  the  original  programme  is  too  apparent  to 
need  explanation.  These  friends  were  conservative  in 
every  act  and  word,  and,  it  may  be,  leaned  a little  out  of 
the  perpendicular  towards  that  “flaunting  lie,”  the  United 
States  flag;  therefore  they  were  favorites  among  the  so- 
called  defenders  of  the  Union,  and  were  kept  supplied 
with  many  palatable  articles  of  food  that  were  entirely 
out  of  the  reach  of  rebels  who  were  avowed  and  “dyed 
in  the  wool.” 

A few  minutes  sufficed  to  furnish  us  with  a fine  pot 
of  soup  (and  good  bread  was  not  lacking),  of  which 
we  ate  heartily.  The  old  negro  man  was  too  anxious  to 
get  home  to  be  willing  to  spend  the  night  so  near,  just 
for  the  privilege  of  walking  into  Decatur  under  Yankee 
escort,  and  said  he  was  “going  home,”  and  left  me. 

The  next  day  my  escort  was  promptly  on  hand,  and 
in  due  time  I was  in  Decatur,  none  the  worse  for  hav- 
ing put  into  practice  a favorite  aphorism  of  the  Yankees, 
that  “all  things  are  fair  in  war.” 

The  old  man  had  preceded  me,  and  faithful  to  the  be- 
hest of  Mrs.  Grant,  had  turned  over  a valuable  package 
to  my  mother. 

Not  many  mornings  subsequent  to  the  adventure  just 
related,  I discovered  upon  opening  the  door  that  the 
Yankee  tents  seemed  to  be  vacant.  Not  a bluecoat  was 
to  be  seen.  What  could  it  mean  ? Had  they  given  up 
the  contest  and  ignominiously  fled?  As'  if  confirmatory 
of  the  gratifying  suggestion,  the  booming  of  cannon  in 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


165 


the  direction  of  Atlanta  was  evidently  decreasing.  Then 
again  I thought  perhaps  the  wagon  train  had  been  sent 
out  to  forage  upon  the  country,  and  as  it  would  now 
have  to  go  forty-five  and  fifty  miles  to  get  anything,  it 
required  an  immense  military  escort  to  protect  it  from  the 
dashing,  sanguinary  attacks  of  the  “rebels.  The  latter 
thought  was  soon  dismissed  and  the  former  embraced, 
and  how  consoling  it  was  to  me.  Before  the  sun  had 
attained  its  meridian  height,  a number  of  our  scouts  ap- 
peared on  the  abandoned  grounds;  and  what  joy  their 
presence  gave  us ! But  they  left  us  as  suddenly  as  they 
came,  and  on  reflection  we  could  not  think  of  a single  en- 
couraging word  uttered  by  them  during  their  stay.  Sus- 
pense became  intolerable.  With  occasional  lulls,  the  roar- 
ing of  cannon  was  a continuous  blending  of  ominous 
sound. 

In  the  midst  of  this  awful  suspense,  an  apparition, 
glorious  and  bright,  appeared  in  our  presence.  It  was  my 
brother.  He  had  left  Madison  a few  days  before,  where 
he  had  been  allowed  to  spend  a part  of  his  furlough,  in- 
stead of  remaining  at  the  Augusta  hospital,  and  where 
he  received  the  tender  ministrations  of  his  estimable  cou- 
sin, Mrs.  Tom  Hillsman,  and  her  pretty  young  daughters, 
and  the  loving  care  of  his  sister  Missouri,  who  was  also  at 
this  time  an  inmate  of  her  cousin’s  household.  How  I 
wished  he  could  have  remained  there  until  restored  to 
health.  One  less  patriotic  and  conscientious  would  have 
done  so.  His  mother’s  joy  at  meeeting  her  beloved  son, 
and  under  such  circumstances,  was  pathetic  indeed,  and 
I shall  never  forget  the  effort  she  made  to  repress  the 


166 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


tears  and  steady  the  voice  as  she  sought  to  nerve  him  for 
the  arduous  and  perilous  duties  before  him.  Much  of 
his  conversation,  though  hurried,  was  regarding  his  Mary, 
in  Texas,  and  the  dear  little  boy  dropped  down  from 
heaven,  whom  he  had  never  seen.  The  shades  of  night 
came  on,  and  darker  grew  until  complete  blackness  en- 
veloped the  face  of  the  earth,  and  still  the  low  subdued 
tones  of  conversation  between  mother,  son  and  daughter, 
mingled  with  unabated  interest.  Hark ! Hark ! An  ex- 
plosion ! An  earthquake  ? The  angry  bellowing  sound 
rises  in  deafening  grandeur,  and  reverberates  along  the 
far-off  valleys  and  distant  hill-tops.  What  is  it?  This 
mighty  thunder  that  never  ceases?  The  earth  is  ablaze 
— what  can  it  be?  This  illumination  that  reveals  minut- 
est objects?  With  blanched  face  and  tearful  eye,  the 
soldier  said : 

“Atlanta  has  surrendered  to  the  enemy.  The  mighty 
reports  are  occasioned  by  the  blowing  up  of  the  maga- 
zines and  arsenals.” 

Dumbfounded  we  stood,  trying  to  realize  the  crushing 
fact.  Woman’s  heart  could  bear  no  more  in  silence, 
and  a wail  over  departed  hopes  mingled  with  the  angry 
sounds  without. 

Impelled  by  a stern  resolve,  and  a spirit  like  to  that  of 
martyred  saints,  our  brother  said : 

“This  is  no  place  for  me.  I must  go.” 

And  then  he  put  an  arm  around  each  of  us,  and  kissed 
us  with  a fervor  of  love  that  knew  no  bounds,  and  was 
quenching  itself  in  unfathomable,  hopeless  tenderness. 
The  quiet  fortitude  and  patriotism  of  his  mother  gave 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


167 


way  in  that  dread  hour,  and  she  cried  aloud  in  agonizing 
apprehension  of  never  again  clasping  to  her  bosom  her 
greatest  earthly  joy.  No  pen  can  describe  the  scene  of 
that  last  parting  between  mother  and  son,  and  in  sad  im- 
potency  I drop  the  curtain. 

As  he  walked  away  from  his  sobbing  mother,  through 
the  war-illuminated  village,  I never  beheld  mortal  man 
so  handsome,  so  heroically  grand.  His  great  tender 
heart,  which  I had  seen  heave  and  sway  under  less  trying 
circumstances,  seemed  to  have  ossified,  and  not  an  emo- 
tion was  apparent. 


168 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  TEN  DAYS"  ARMISTICE. 


Going  out  with  the  Confederate  clothes — Scenes  at  Atlanta 
and  at  Lovejoy’s  Station — The  visit  to  Granbury’s  Brigade — 
The  last  interview  with  Thomie. 

After  every  morsel  of  food  had  been  taken  from  the 
people,  and  every  vestige  of  nutrition  extracted  from  the 
earth,  the  following  order,  in  substance,  was  proclaimed 
throughout  the  land  held  by  the  right  of  conquest : 

“All  who  can  not  support  themselves  without  apply- 
ing to  the  United  States  Commissary  for  assistance,  must 
go  outside  of  our  lines,  either  north  or  south,  within  the 
period  of  time  mentioned  in  this  order,  etc.,  etc.” 

And  by  this  order,  and  by  others  even  more  oppres- 
sive and  diabolical,  the  Nero  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
alias  William  Tecumseh  Sherman,  was  put  upon  record 
as  the  born  leader  of  the  most  ruthless,  Godless  band  of 
men  ever  organized  in  the  name  of  patriotism — a band 
which,  but  for  a few  noble  spirits  who,  by  the  power  of 
mind  over  matter,  exerted  a restraining  influence,  would 
not  have  left  a Southerner  to  tell  the  tale  of  its  fiendish- 
ness on  its  route  to  the  sea. 

And  now,  like  Bill  Nye,  after  one  of  his  sententious 
and  doubtless  truthful  introductions  to  a Western  sketch, 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


1(39 


I feel  easier  in  my  mind,  and  will  proceed  with  my  remin- 
iscences of  that  unholy  period  of  this  country,  and  tell 
the  truth  about  it,  without  favor  or  prejudice,  if  it  kills 
me.  After  this  pronunciamento  had  been  issued,  all  was 
bustle  and  rapid  movement  in  every  household  within  the 
boundaries  of  usurpation.  Under  the  strong  arm  of  mili- 
tary power,  delay  was  not  permitted.  Homes  were  to 
be  abandoned,  and  household  goods  and  household  gods 
to  be  left  for  the  enemy,  or  destroyed ; and  liberty  under 
our  own  vine  and  fig  tree  was  to  be  a thing  of  the  past, 
and  dependence  upon  strangers  a thing  of  the  future.  In 
preparation  for  this  enforced  change,  much  that  should 
have  been  done  was  left  undone,  but  there  was  no  time 
to  correct  mistakes — the  armistice  was  only  for  ten  days. 

What  were  we  to  do,  my  mother  and  myself,  was  a 
question  which  presented  itself  with  startling  seriousness, 
and  had  to  be  answered  without  delay.  Our  farm  in 
Gordon  County  had  already  been  devastated  by  the  invad- 
ing army,  and  every  improvement  destroyed,  and  if  we 
should  lose  our  home  in  Decatur,  we  would  be  poor  in- 
deed. But  what  were  we  to  do?  If  we  left  our  home, 
we  knew  it  would  share  the  fate  of  all  other  “abandoned” 
property,  and  furnish  material  for  a bonfire  for  Nero  to 
fiddle  by;  and  if  we  remained,  by  grace  of  better  men 
than  he,  what  assurance  had  we  that  by  any  means  with- 
in our  grasp  we  could  obtain  even  a scanty  subsistence, 
or  be  protected  from  personal  abuse  and  insult  by  an 
alien  army  whose  gentlemen  were  vastly  in  the  minority. 

We  learned  that  our  neighbors  and  friends,  Mrs. 
Ammi  Williams  and  her  estimable  son,  Mr.  Frederick 


170 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Williams,  (an  invalid  from  paralysis) — whose  influence 
over  General  Schofield  prevented  my  banishment  from 
Decatur  the  very  first  night  of  its  occupancy  by  the  Fed- 
eral army— and  the  venerable  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Buchanan 
(the  latter  a Bostonian  and  educated  in  Emerson’s  cele- 
brated school  for  young  ladies),  and  other  families  as 
true  to  the  South  as  the  needle  to  the  pole,  were  going 
to  remain  and  take  their  chances  within  the  enemy’s  lines, 
and  we  determined  to  do  so  too. 

The  officers  in  command  of  the  post,  especially  the 
provost  marshal,  interrogated  us  very  closely  regarding 
our  plans  and  expectations  during  the  occupancy  of  the 
place  by  Federal  forces.  Having  satisfied  them  that  our 
only  remaining  servant  would  do  washing  and  ironing  at 
reasonable  prices,  and  that  we  would  do  darning  and  re- 
pairing, we  were  given  a written  permit  to  remain  within 
the  lines. 

I,  however,  had  a work  to  do,  a feat  to  perform,  which 
for  audacity  and  courage,  has  seldom  been  surpassed, 
which  would  not  admit  of  my  staying  at  home  until  I had 
made  a little  trip  to  Dixie. 

Knowing  the  value  of  his  influence,  I again  went  to 
Mr.  Frederick  Williams,  and  confiding  my  plans  to  him, 
asked  his  assistance  in  getting  permission  to  go  out  and 
return  during  the  armistice.  I never  knew  what  argu- 
ment he  employed  for  the  accomplishment  of  this  object. 
I only  know  by  inference.  But  I received  a letter  from 
General  Schofield,  adjutant-general,  of  which  the  sub- 
joined is  an  exact  transcript : 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


171 


“Decatur,  Ga.,  Sept,  i,  1864. 

“Miss  Gay — It  was  hard  for  me  to  reconcile  my  con- 
science to  giving  the  enclosed  recommendation  to  one 
whose  sentiments  I can  not  approve,  but  if  I have  com- 
mitted an  error  it  has  been  on  the  side  of  mercy,  and  I 
hope  I’ll  be  forgiven.  Hereafter  I hope  you  will  not  think 
of  Yankees  as  all  being  bad,  and  beyond  the  pale  of  re- 
demption. 

“To-morrow  I leave  for  my  own  home  in  the  ‘frozen 
North,’  and  when  I return  it  will  be  to  fight  for  my 
country,  and  against  your  friends,  so  that  I suppose  I 
shall  not  have  the  pleasure  of  again  meeting  you. 

“Very  respectfully, 

“J.  W.  Campbell.” 

And  that  Major  Campbell’s  gallant  act  may  be  fully 
appreciated,  I will  add  the  letter  which  secured  for  me 
the  great  favor  which  I had  the  temerity  to  ask. 

“Headquarters,  Army  of  Ohio, 

Decatur,  Ga.,  Sept.  14,  1864. 

“My  Dear  Colonel — I have  the  honor  to  introduce 
Miss  Mary  A.  H.  Gay,  of  this  village,  and  I recommend 
her  case  to  your  favorable  consideration.  I do  not  know 
exactly  what  orders  are  now  in  force,  but  if  you  think 
you  can  grant  her  desires  without  detriment  to  the  public 
service,  I am  confident  the  indulgence  will  not  be  abused. 

“Very  respectfully  your  obedient  servant, 

“J.  W.  Campbell. 

“To  Colonel  J.  C.  Parkhurst,  Pro.  Mar.  Gen.,  Army  of 

the  Cumberland.” 

Thus  recommended  by  one  high  in  army  ranks,  Col- 
onel Parkhurst  granted  me  the  privilege  of  going  to 


172 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


see  my  young  sister,  then  in  Augusta,  and  carrying  any- 
thing I might  have  saved  from  the  ravages  of  the  war, 
“unmolested.”  Fortified  by  these  letters  I went  to  the 
Provost  Marshal  in  Decatur  and  told  him  I would  be 
ready  to  go  to  Atlanta  to-morrow  morning  at  8 o’clock, 
and  I wanted  to  carry  some  bed-clothing  and  other  things 
to  my  sister,  and  would  be  grateful  for  an  ambulance, 
or  an  army  wagon  all  to  myself,  and  an  Irish  driver. 
He  promised  that  both  should  be  at  my  service  at  the 
time  indicated — not,  however,  without  the  sarcastic  re- 
mark that  “if  the  Yankees  had  been  as  bad  as  I had  said 
they  were,  they  would  not  have  left  anything  for  me  to 
carry.” 

I ran  to  my  mother  and  imparted  to  her  the  glad 
tidings  of  success,  and  in  a whispered  conversation  we 
soon  had  definite  plans  arranged  for  the  consummation 
of  the  perilous  duty  before  me.  I went  to  the  Federal 
camp  and  asked  for  some  crocus  sacks  such  as  are  used 
in  the  transportation  of  grain,  and  quite  a number  were 
given  to  me.  I shook  them  thoroughly  inside  and  out, 
and  put  them  by.  A ball  of  twine  and  some  large  needles 
had  found  their  way  into  the  house.  The  needles  were 
threaded  and  placed  in  convenient  proximity  to  the 
sacks.  Telitha  watched  every  movement  with  interest 
and  intuitively  divined  its  import.  The  wardrobe  was 
empty  and  my  very  first  touch  moved  it  at  least  one  inch 
in  the  desired  direction,  and  a helping  hand  from  her 
soon  placed  it  in  favorable  position.  This  much  being 
accomplished,  I took  a seat  by  my  mother  on  the  front 
door-steps  and  engaged  in  a pleasant  conversation  with  a 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


173 


group  of  young  Federal  soldiers,  who  seemed  much  at- 
tached to  us,  and  with  whom  I conversed  with  unreserved 
candor,  and  often  expressed  regret  that  they  were  in 
hostile  array  towards  a people  who  had  been  goaded  to 
desperation  by  infringement  upon  constitutional  rights 
by  those  who  had  pronounced  the  only  ligament  that 
bound  the  two  sections  of  the  country  together,  “a  league 
with  hell,  and  a covenant  with  the  devil.”  This  I proved 
to  them  by  documents  published  at  the  North,  and  by 
many  other  things  of  which  they  were  ignorant. 

While  thus  engaged.  Captain  Woodbury  approached 
and  said : “I  learn  that  you  are  going  out  into  Dixie, 
Miss  Gay.” 

“Yes,  for  a few  days,”  I replied. 

“I  am  prepared  to  furnish  a more  pleasant  convey- 
ance to  Atlanta  than  the  one  you  have  secured,”  said  he, 
and  continued,  “I  have  a handsome  new  buggy  and  a 
fine  trotter,  and  it  will  take  only  a few  minutes  to  reach 
there.  Will  you  accept  a seat  with  me?” 

If  all  the  blood  within  me  had  overflowed  its  proper 
channels,  and  rushed  to  the  surface,  I could  not  have 
flushed  more.  I felt  it  in  the  commotion  of  my  hair,  and 
in  the  nervous  twitching  of  my  feet.  The  indignation 
and  contempt  that  I felt  for  the  man ! That  one  who 
was  aiding  and  abetting  in  the  devastation  of  my  coun- 
try and  the  spoliation  of  my  home,  should  ask  me  to  take 
a seat  with  him  in  a buggy  which  he  doubtless  had  taken, 
without  leave  or  license,  from  my  countrymen,  was  pre- 
sumptuous indeed,  and  deserved  a severe  rebuke.  But 


174 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


“prudence  being  the  better  part  of  valor,”  I repressed  all 
that  would  have  been  offensive  in  word  and  act,  and  re- 
plied with  suavity,  “Thank  you,  Captain  Woodbury,  for 
the  honor  you  would  confer  upon  me,  but  I can  not  ac- 
cept it.”  Receiving  no  reply,  I added : 

“Let  me  in  candor  make  a statement  to  you,  and  I 
think  you  will  approve  the  motive  that  prompts  my  de- 
cision. I have  not  sought  to  conceal  the  fact  that  my  only 
brother  is  in  the  Confederate  army ; he  is  there  from 
motives  purely  patriotic,  and  not  as  a mercenary  hire- 
ling. He  is  fighting  for  the  rights  guaranteed  by  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States,  a constitution  so 
sacred  that  our  people  have  never  violated  it  in  any  par- 
ticular, and  of  which  we  have  shown  our  highest  appre- 
ciation by  adopting  it  verbatim,  as  the  guiding  slar  of 
the  Southern  Confederacy.  You  are  in  an  army  claim- 
ing to  be  fighting  for  the  Union,  and  yet  the  government 
that  sent  you  out  on  this  glorious  mission  ignores  every 
principle  of  fraternal  relation  between  the  North  and  the 
South,  and  would  subvert  every  fundamental  principle  of 
self-government  and  establish  upon  the  wreck  a central- 
ized depotism.  Could  I,  while  you  and  I are  so  antag- 
onistic, accept  your  offer  and  retain  your  good  opinion  ? 
I think  not,  and  I prefer  to  go  in  the  conveyance  already 
stipulated.” 

Silence,  without  the  slightest  manifestation  of  an- 
ger, assured  me  that  my  argument  against  taking  a 
buggy  drive  with  him  to  Atlanta  had  not  been  lost  on 
Captain  Woodbury,  of  Ohio,  a member  of  Garrard’s 
Cavalry. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


175 


After  this  episode  we  bade  our  callers  “good-even- 
ing,” went  into  the  house  and  busied  ourselves  with  the 
important  work  before  us — a work  which  probably  would 
not  attract  attention  because  of  the  darkness  that  would 
surround  the  scene  of  its  execution.  The  table  and 
chair  had  been  placed,  as  once  before,  by  the  wardrobe 
already  mentioned,  and  a little  respite  from  action  was 
indulged.  The  door  connecting  our  room  and  the  din- 
ing-room was  generally  kept  shut.  At  length  night 
came  on  with  its  friendly,  helpful  darkness.  The  shut- 
ters of  the  windows  had  been  closed  for  weeks,  and  se- 
cured by  nails,  and  the  house  had  been  too  often  search- 
ed and  plundered  to  be  suspected  of  containing  valuables. 
Therefore,  we  felt  that  if  no  unusual  sound  attracted 
notice  we  would  accomplish  our  object  unsuspected.  But 
I was  anxious  and  nervous  in  view  of  what  was  before 
me,  and  wanted  the  perilous  work  over  with.  So  when 
the  darkness  of  night  fully  enshrouded  the  earth,  with 
no  other  light  than  that  which  found  its  way  from  the 
camp-fires  of  the  enemy  through  the  latticed  shutters, 
I stepped  into  the  chair  and  thence  upon  the  table,  and 
Telitha  followed  and  drew  the  chair  up  after  her.  Then 
with  her  strong  dusky  hands  she  seized  the  wardrobe  as 
if  it  had  been  a toy.  I steadied  the  chair  by  the  ward- 
robe and  stepped  into  it,  and  another  step  landed  me 
on  top  of  the  wardrobe.  My  fingers  penetrated  the  crev- 
ice between  the  slats  which  I wanted  to  pull  off,  and  to 
a slight  effort  they  yielded.  Lest  the  noise  occasioned 
by  dropping  them  might  attract  notice,  I stooped  and  laid 
each  piece  down  as  I drew  it  off  the  joist.  When  the 


176 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


aperture  thus  made  was  sufficient,  I began  to  draw  from 
their  hiding  place  the  precious  Confederate  overcoats 
and  other  winter  apparel  confided  to  my  keeping  (as 
already  related),  by  soldiers  of  General  Joseph  E.  John- 
ston’s army,  when  they  were  at  Dalton.  One  by  one 
each  piece  was  taken  out  and  dropped  down  upon  the 
floor.  But  by  a lamentable  oversight  we  afterwards 
found  that  one  article  had  been  left — a woolen  scarf  for 
the  neck,  knitted  for  my  brother  by  his  loving  young 
wife  in  Texas. 

Carefully  I descended,  and,  with  the  aid  of  the  girl, 
placed  the  chair,  the  table,  and  the  dear  old  wardrobe 
(which  deserves  to  be  immortalized  in  song  and  story), 
in  less  suspicious  positions,  and  then  proceeded  to  pack 
in  the  sacks,  already  mentioned,  the  precious  articles. 
The  thought  occurred  to  me  that  my  mother  would  like 
to  have  a hand  in  this  labor  of  love,  and  I opened  the 
door  between  us.  I shall  never  forget  her  appearance  as 
she  stood  as  if  riveted  to  the  spot,  near  a window,  watch- 
ing the  moving  figures  without.  I approached  her  and 
in  a cheerful  whisper  told  her  that  I was  now  putting  the 
things  in  the  sacks,  and  I knew  she  would  like  to  have  an 
interest  in  the  job.  She  tried  to  respond,  but  she  was 
too  nervous  to  do  so.  Slowly  but  surely  she  was  yielding 
to  the  pressure  upon  nerve  and  brain.  As  each  sack 
was  filled,  a threaded  needle  securely  closed  the  mouth. 
In  a short  while  a number  of  these  sacks  stood  in  a 
group,  as  erect  as  if  on  parade,  and  I verily  believe  that 
if  the  host  of  profane,  godless  braggarts  (with  but  few 
exceptions  ) who  surrounded  the  house  could  have  seen 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


177 


them  at  that  time  and  known  their  contents,  they  would 
have  evacuated  Decatur  in  mortal  fear  of  the  ghosts  of 
“Johnnie  Rebs.” 

This  important  work  having  been  accomplished  with- 
out discovery  or  even  a shadow  of  suspicion,  I felt  vastly 
relieved,  and  thanked  the  Lord  with  all  my  heart  for  the 
health,  strength,  and  ingenuity  which  had  enabled  me 
to  consummate  it.  My  mother  and  I lay  down  upon 
the  same  bed,  and  were  soon  blessed  with  the  invigorat- 
ing influence  of  “tired  nature’s  sweet  restorer.” 

The  song  of  the  lark  had  ceased  to  be  heard  in  this 
war-stricken  locality ; chanticleer  had  long  since  fur- 
nished a savory  meal  for  camp  followers,  and  the  time- 
pieces had  either  been  spoiled  or  stolen;  but  there  was 
a silent,  unerring  chronometer  within  that  never  deviated, 
and  needed  no  alarm  attachment  to  arouse  me  from  slum- 
ber, and  the  dawn  found  me  up  and  preparing  for  the 
duties  and  perhaps  the  dangers  of  the  day. 

Telitha  had  become  quite  an  attraction  to  a bevy  of 
men  who  occupied  soldiers’  quarters,  and  wore  soldiers’ 
uniforms,  and  drew  pay  for  doing  so,  from  Uncle  Sam’s 
coffers ; and  as  she  had  been  trained  to  ideas  of  virtue 
and  morality  she  often  came  in  frowning  and  much  ruf- 
fled in  temper  by  their  deportment  towards  her.  Being 
almost  entirely  deaf  and  dumb,  her  limited  vocabulary 
was  inadequate  to  supply  epithets  expressive  of  the  right- 
eous indignation  and  contempt  which  she  evidently  felt 
— she  could  only  say,  “Devil  Yank,  devil,”  and  these 
words  she  used  with  telling  effect  both  to  the  amuse- 
ment and  chagrin  of  the  Yankees.  This  state  of  affairs 


178 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


convinced  me  that  for  her  protection  she  would  have 
to  be  kept  within  doors,  and  I therefore  assumed 
the  task  of  drawing  the  water,  and  a few  other  jobs  in- 
dispensable even  in  life’s  rudest  state.  On  this  occasion, 
when  I went  to  the  well  for  a bucket  of  water,  be- 
fore preparing  our  frugal  breakfast,  I was  asked  by  early 
marauders  why  I did  not  let  “that  young  colored  lady 
draw  the  water.”  I candidly  answered  them,  and  told 
them  I was  going  to  ask  the  officers  of  the  encampment 
to  protect  her  while  I was  gone,  and  I also  would  ask 
them  to  report  any  misdemeanor  toward  her,  that  they 
might  witness,  at  headquarters. 

After  a good  night’s  rest  my  mother’s  nerves  seemed 
all  right  again,  and  by  7 o’clock  we  had  finished  our 
breakfast,  which  consisted  of  bread  and  butter  and  cof- 
fee— the  latter  luxurious  beverage  being  furnished  by 
one  whose  heart  was  in  touch  with  humanity.  That  the 
aperture  in  the  ceiling  of  the  dining-room  might  not  be 
discovered  until  I got  the  contraband  goods  out  of  the 
house,  I had  brought  the  sacks  containing  them  into  the 
adjoining  room,  and  it  was  therefore  the  work  of  a very 
few  minutes  to  convey  them  to  the  wagon,  when  that  ve- 
hicle, drawn  by  a span  of  fine  horses,  under  the  guidance 
of  the  Irish  driver,  drove  up  to  the  front  door.  “Put 
those  sacks  into  the  wagon,’’  I said,  pointing  to  them. 
When  the  last  one  of  them  was  stored  away  safely  in  that 
moving  repository,  one  of  those  feelings  of  relief  and  se- 
curity came  over  me  that  had  more  than  once  given  me 
courage  to  brave  successfully  impending  danger — and  I 
donned  my  hat,  and  bade  my  mother  and  the  faithful 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


179 


girl  an  almost  cheerful  “Good-bye,”  and  took  my  seat  by 
the  driver,  en  route  for  Dixie.  Would  I get  there  ? Ah  ! 
that  was  the  question  that  had  blanched  my  mother’s 
cheek  when  I said  “Good-bye.”  But  hope,  etc.,  “eternal 
in  the  human  breast,”  whispered  “yes,”  and  thus  encour- 
aged, I spoke  grateful  words  to  the  Irish  driver,  and 
asked  him  many  questions  about  the  land  of  the  sham- 
rock and  sunny  blue  skies.  He  was  evidently  flattered 
by  my  favorable  knowledge  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  and 
would  have  done  anything  within  his  power  for  me.  God 
bless  the  Irish  forever ! 

I asked  him  to  drive  under  my  direction  to  the  res- 
idence of  my  estimable  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Posey 
Maddox,  the  parents  of  the  accomplished  and  erudite 
Charles  K.  Maddox,  of  Atlanta.  To  my  great  joy  I 
saw  wagons  in  the  yard,  already  laden  with  their  house- 
hold goods,  to  be  carried  to  the  depot  and  turned  over  to 
the  Federal  authorities,  who  assumed  the  transportation 
of  them  to  Jonesboro  and  the  safe  delivery  of  them  to 
the  Confederate  authorities,  who  in  turn  assumed  the 
transportation  and  delivery  of  them  to  the  nearest  Con- 
federate station.  Mr.  Maddox  had  secured  the  use  of  an 
entire  freight  car,  and  gladly  consented  to  take  me  and 
my  baggage  in  with  theirs.  Mrs.  Maddox  was  partic- 
ularly  glad  to  have  me  go  with  them,  and  to  her  I con- 
fided the  character  of  my  baggage,  and  received  in  re- 
turn many  words  of  sympathy  and  approbation.  Those 
who  have  studied  mythical  lore,  and  dwelt  in  imagina- 
tion upon  the  attributes  of  mythical  characters,  espec- 
ially those  of  an  evil  nature,  can  perhaps  form  some  idea 


180 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


of  the  confusion  and  disquiet  of  an  entire  city  yielding 
its  possession  to  an  alien  army,  which  now,  that  success 
had  been  achieved  by  brute  force,  was  bent  upon  the  ut- 
ter impoverishment  of  the  people,  and  their  extreme  hu- 
miliation. Curses  and  imprecations  too  vile  to  repeat, 
and  boisterous  laughter,  and  vulgar  jests  resounded 
through  the  streets  of  Atlanta.  Federal  wagons  followed 
in  the  tracks  of  Confederate  wagons,  and  after  a few 
light  articles  were  placed  in  the  latter  for  Southern  des- 
tination, the  former  unblushingly  moved  up  to  receive 
pianos  and  other  expensive  furniture  which  found  its  way 
into  every  section  of  the  North.  And  this  highway  rob- 
bery was  permitted  by  William  Tecumseh  Sherman,  the 
Grand  Mogul  of  the  Army  of  the  Republic.  Truly  had 
the  city  of  Atlanta  been  turned  into  a veritable  pande- 
monium. 

At  length  our  time  came  to  move  in  the  worse  than 
death-like  processions  going  southward,  and  in  a short 
while  we  were  at  Jonesboro,  our  destination,  so  far  as 
Federal  aid  extended.  As  soon  as  I stepped  from  the  car 
I wended  my  way  to  the  Confederate  officer  of  the  day, 
whom  I recognized  by  his  regalia,  and  told  him  of  my 
success  in  concealing  and  bringing  out  of  Federal  lines 
the  winter  clothing  of  our  soldiers.  He  listened  with 
polite  attention  and  said  it  was  a wonderfully  interest- 
ing story,  but  altogether  improbable. 

“Go  with  me  and  I will  prove  to  you  the  truthfulness 
of  it,”  I eagerly  said. 

As  it  was  a bleak  equinoctial  day,  and  drizzling  rain, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Maddox  had  not  yet  left  their  car  (by  way 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


181 


of  parenthesis,  I would  say  that  the  favors  shown  to  these 
excellent  people  was  in  consideration  of  Mr.  Maddox  be- 
ing a very  prudent  minister  of  the  gospel),  and,  when  we 
reached  it,  I asked  Mr.  Maddox  to  roll  one  of  my  sacks 
to  the  door.  He  did  so,  and  I then  asked  the  officer  to 
examine  its  contents.  A blade  of  a pen-knife  severed  the 
twine  with  which  the  edges  of  the  mouth  had  been  sewed 
together,  and  the  loved  familiar  gray  and  brass  buttons, 
and  other  articles,  verified  the  truth  of  my  statement.  He 
looked  amazed,  and  exhausted  his  vocabulary  of  flatter- 
ing encomiums  upon  me,  and,  what  was  more  desirable 
and  to  the  point,  he  asked  what  he  could  do  in  the  matter, 
and  assured  me  that  there  was  nothing  within  the  range 
of  his  jurisdiction  that  he  would  not  do.  I told  him  that 
the  object  of  my  coming  to  him  was  to  ask  that  he  send 
me  and  my  precious  charge  to  General  Granbury’s  head- 
quarters, as,  among  other  overcoats,  I had  one  of  his  in 
charge,  as  well  as  many  other  things  belonging  to  his 
staff  officers.  He  told  me  the  finest  span  of  Confederate 
horses  and  the  best  ambulance  on  the  ground  should  be 
at  my  service  as  soon  as  possible. 

During  the  interim,  I opened  wide  my  eyes  and  took 
in  the  situation  in  all  its  horrible  details.  The  entire 
Southern  population  of  Atlanta,  with  but  an  occasional 
exception,  and  that  of  many  miles  in  its  vicinity,  were 
dumped  out  upon  the  cold  ground  without  shelter  and 
without  any  of  the  comforts  of  home,  and  an  autumnal 
mist  or  drizzle  slowly  but  surely  saturating  every  article 
of  clothing  upon  them;  and  pulmonary  diseases  in  all 
stages  admonishing  them  of  the  danger  of  such  exposure. 


182 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Aged  grandmothers  tottering  upon  the  verge  of  the  grave, 
and  tender  maidens  in  the  first  bloom  of  young  woman- 
hood, and  little  babes  not  three  days  old  in  the  arms  of 
sick  mothers,  driven  from  their  homes,  were  all  out  upon 
the  cold  charity  of  the  world. 

Apropos,  I will  relate  an  incident  that  came  under  my 
observation  during  my  brief  stay  at  this  station : When 
one  of  the  long  trains  from  Atlanta  rolled  in  with  its 
living  freight  and  stopped  at  the  terminus,  a queenly 
girl,  tall  and  lithe  in  figure  and  willowy  in  motion,  em- 
erged from  one  of  the  cars,  and  stood,  the  embodiment  of 
feminine  grace,  for  a moment  upon  the  platform.  In 
less  time  than  it  takes  to  chronicle  the  impression,  her 
Grecian  beauty,  classic  expression  and  nobility  of  manner, 
had  daguerreotyped  themselves  upon  the  tablets  of  my 
memory  never  to  be  effaced  by  mortal  alchemy.  The 
pretty  plain  debeige  dress,  trimmed  with  Confederate 
buttons  and  corresponding  ribbon,  all  conspired  to  make 
her  appear,  even  to  a casual  observer,  just  what  she  was 
— a typical  Southern  girl  who  gloried  in  that  honor.  She 
stood  only  a moment,  and  then,  as  if  moved  by  some  di- 
vine inspiration,  she  stepped  from  the  car,  and  falling 
upon  her  knees,  bent  forward  and  kissed  the  ground. 
This  silent  demonstration  of  affection  for  the  land  of 
Dixie  touched  a vibrating  chord,  and  a score  or  more  of 
beautiful  girlish  voices  blended  in  sweetest  harmony 
while  they  told  in  song  their  love  for  Dixie.  I listened 
spellbound,  and  was  not  the  only  one  thus  enchanted. 
A United  States  officer  listened  and  was  touched  to 
tears.  Approaching  me,  he  asked  if  I would  do  him  the 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


183 


favor  to  tell  him  the  name  of  the  young  lady  who  kissed 
the  ground. 

“I  do  not  think  she  would  approve  of  my  telling 
you  her  name,  and  I decline  to  do  so,’  I said  in  reply. 
Not  in  the  least  daunted  by  this  rebuff  he  responded: 
“I  shall  learn  it ; and  if  she  has  not  already  become  the 
wife  or  the  affianced  of  another,  I shall  offer  her  the  de- 
votion of  my  life.” 

The  Confederate  officer  of  the  day,  God  forever  bless 
him!  came  for  me.  The  army  wagon  was  ready  and 
standing  by  Mr.  Posey  Maddox’s  car,  waiting  to  receive 
its  precious  freight,  and  a few  minutes  sufficed  to  trans- 
fer it  from  car  to  wagon,  and,  after  waiting  to  see  the 
last  sack  securely  placed  in  the  wagon,  I,  too,  got  in  and 
took  my  seat  by  the  driver.  A long  cold  drive  was  before 
us,  but  I was  so  robust  I had  no  fear  of  the  result. 

The  driver  was  a veritable  young  Jehu,  and  we  got 
over  the  ground  rapidly ; but,  owing  to  a mistake  in 
following  directions,  it  was  a long  time  before  we  reached 
our  destination,  the  course  of  which  must  have  been  due 
west  from  Jonesboro,  and  through  a dense  forest.  And 
oh,  the  beauty  of  that  forest ! It  will  remain  a living, 
vivid  memory,  as  long  as  life  endures.  Its  rich  and 
heavy  foliage  had  been  but  lightly  tinged  by  the  frosts 
of  autumn,  and  it  was  rendered  more  beautiful  by  the 
constant  dripping  of  rain  drops  from  every  leaf  and  blos- 
som. As  the  evening  came  on,  dense,  impenetrable 
clouds  canopied  the  earth,  and  shut  out  every  ray  of  sun- 
light, and  almost  every  ray  of  hope.  At  length  night 


184 


LIFE  IX  DIXIE 


came  on,  dark  and  weird,  and  silent,  and  we  were  still  in 
the  woods,  without  compass  or  star. 

Just  as  my  brave  heart  was  about  to  succumb  to  des- 
pair, a vision  of  delight  burst  upon  me — a beacon  light, 
yea,  hundreds  of  beacon  lights,  appeared  before  me,  and 
filled  my  soul  with  joy.  The  camp-fires  of  General 
Cleburne’s  brave  men  beckoned  us  onward,  and  gave  us 
friendly  greeting.  Every  revolution  of  the  wagon  wheels 
brought  us  perceptibly  nearer  the  haven  of  rest.  Sabbath- 
like quiet  reigned  throughout  the  encampment.  No  bois- 
terous sounds  nor  profane  imprecations  broke  the  still- 
ness. But  there  was  a sound  that  reached  my  ear,  filling 
my  soul  with  joy  unspeakable.  A human  voice  it  was. 
I had  heard  it  before  in  the  slight  wail  of  infancy ; in 
the  merry  prattle  of  childhood ; in  the  melodious  songs  of 
youth ; in  the  tender,  well-modulated  tones  of  manhood ; 
and  now — there  was  no  mistaking  it — in  the  solemn, 
earnest  invocation  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts  for  the  salvation 
of  the  world,  for  the  millenial  dawn,  and  that  “peace 
on  earth,  and  good  will  to  men,”  which  would  never 
again  be  broken  by  the  clarion  of  war,  or  earth’s  rude 
alarms.  No  sweeter  voice  ever  entered  the  courts  of 
Heaven. 

My  obliging  young  driver  stopped  the  horses  at  a 
favorable  distance,  and  I heard  the  greater  part  of  that 
grand  prayer,  and  wept  for  joy.  When  it  was  finished, 
we  moved  on,  and  were  hailed  by  a sentinel  who  demand- 
ed the  countersign,  I believe  it  is  called.  The  driver 
satisfied  him,  and  calling  to  a soldier,  I asked  him  if  he 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


185 


knew  Lieutenant  Stokes.  “Like  a book,”  he  answered. 
“Please  tell  him  his  sister  Mary  is  here,”  I said.  In  a 
moment  I was  clasped  in  his  arms  with  the  holy  press- 
ure of  a brother’s  love.  His  first  thought  on  seeing  me 
was  that  some  calamity  must  have  occurred,  and  he  said, 
“Sister,  is  Ma  or  Missouri  dead?”  “No,  Thomie,  but 
Toby  is.” 

His  brave  head  bowed  low  and  he  wept — sobbed 
audibly.  I told  him  of  Toby’s  loving  mention  of  him, 
and  of  the  boy’s  hope  of  Heaven.  After  his  natural 
paroxysm  of  grief  had  subsided,  he  looked  up,  and  with 
an  ineffable  smile,  said : 

“Sister,  I know  you  have  a secret  to  tell — what  is  it?” 

“It  is  this ; I have  saved  all  those  precious  things  that 
were  sent  to  me  from  Dalton,  and  I have  brought  them 
to  deliver  to  their  rightful  owners.  Help  me  to  do  so  as 
quickly  as  possible,  that  I may  go  back  to  Jonesboro  to- 
night.” 

Had  a bombshell  exploded  at  his  feet,  the  effect  could 
not  have  been  more  electrical.  He  bounded  to  General 
Granbury’s  tent  with  the  agility  of  a deer ; he  told  the 
news  to  him  and  the  others  assembled  there ; and  he 
came  back,  and  they  all  came  with  him ; and  had  I been  a 
magician,  I could  not  have  been  an  object  of  greater  in- 
terest. General  Granbury  protested  against  my  return 
to  Jonesboro  through  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  of- 
fered his  tent  for  my  occupancy,  saying  he  would  go  in 
with  some  of  the  other  officers.  Colonel  Robert  Young, 
a friend  of  years’  standing,  was  also  earnest  in  his  efforts 


186 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


to  keep  me  from  carrying  out  my  purpose  to  go  back, 
and  I gave  it  up.  I knew  that  I was  with  friends,  and 
permitted  myself  to  be  lifted  out  of  the  wagon  and  con- 
ducted to  the  Genaral’s  tent.  I took  a seat  upon  a camp 
stool  which  was  placed  for  me  about  the  center  of  the 
tent.  The  General  and  his  staff  officers  sat  around,  and 
my  dear  brother  was  very  near  me.  Thus  arranged,  a 
conversation  was  commenced  which  continued  with  slight 
interruptions  into  the  “wee  sma’  hours”  of  the  night. 
Colonel  Young  seemed  to  have  something  upon  his  mind 
which  rendered  him  indifferent  to  society,  or  some  duty 
to  perform  which  required  his  attention  outside  the  tent. 
At  length,  however,  he  came  to  the  door  and  asked  my 
brother  to  come  out  awhile.  In  a short  time  both  of 
them  came  in  together,  and  Colonel  Young,  after  asking 
us  to  excuse  the  interruption  of  the  conversation,  re- 
marked that  there  was  something  outside  that  he  would 
like  for  us  to  see.  My  brother  took  me  by  the  hand  and 
led  me  out  in  front  of  the  tent,  and  all  the  officers  stood 
in  a group  around.  Imagine  my  surprise  when  I per- 
ceived a long  line  of  soldiers  before  us,  and  an  officer  on 
horseback  galloping  from  one  end  of  the  line  to  the 
other.  I ventured  to  ask  my  brother  if  they  were  going 
to  have  a moonlight  drill  without  the  moon  ? He  smiled, 
and  a faint  pressure  of  the  hand  indicated  that  there  was 
something  on  the  tapis  that  would  please  me,  but  I must 
wait  until  it  was  revealed  to  others  as  well.  In  much  less 
time  than  it  has  taken  to  record  this  episode  a signal  was 
given,  and  one  of  the  grandest  cheers  ever  heard  by  mor- 
tal man  resounded  through  the  midnight  darkness  and 


DURING  THE  IFAi?. 


187 


the  dense  forest,  and  was  echoed  over  hill  and  dale.  An- 
other signal  and  another  cheer,  and  yet  another  of  each, 
and  I broke  down  completely  and  cried  heartily.  What 
had  I done  that  my  name  should  thus  be  honored  by  men 
enduring  all  the  hardships  of  warfare  and  fighting  for 
my  principles ; and  yet  to  me  it  was  the  most  acceptable 
compliment  ever  paid  to  living  woman.  I often  fancy  I 
hear  those  voices  now  blending  in  one  grand  harmonious 
shout  of  praise  to  the  great  God  of  Heaven  and  earth, 
who  has  doubtless  given  rest  to  many  of  those  weary 
ones. 

Once  more  in  General  Granbury’s  tent,  at  the  earnest 
solicitation  of  all  present,  I continued  the  rehearsel  of  all 
the  Federal  army  news  that  I had  gleaned  from  close 
perusal  of  the  United  States  newspapers  and  from  care- 
less and  unsuspicious  talkers.  General  Granbury  was 
evidently  startled  when  I told  him  that  I heard  Federal 
officers  say  “Hood  was  working  to  their  hand  precisely 
in  going  back  to  Tennessee,  as  Thomas  was  there  with 
an  army  that  was  invincible,  and  would  whip  him  so  bad 
that  there  would  not  be  a Johnnie  Reb  left  to  tell  the 
tale;”  and  they  criticised  severely  the  “generalship”  of 
giving  an  invading  army  unobstructed  route  to  the  goal 
of  their  ambition,  which,  in  this  case,  was  South  Caro- 
lina. I was  asked  by  one  of  my  auditors  to  give  my 
impression  of  the  situation,  and  I did  so.  As  I described 
the  magnitude  of  the  Federal  army,  and  its  vindictive 
spirit  as  I had  seen  it,  and  its  implacable  feeling  towards 
the  oouth,  I saw  a shade  of  sadness  pass  over  the  noble 


188 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


faces  of  all  present.  “Have  you  lost  hope  of  the  ulti- 
mate success  of  our  cause?”  was  a question  I was  com- 
pelled to  answer,  because  anxiously  asked.  I,  however, 
imitated  a Yankee  by  asking  a question  in  reply,  as  to 
what  our  resources  were,  and  if  they  were  deemed  ad- 
equate to  cope  with  a foe  which  had  the  world  to  draw 
from,  both  for  men  and  means?  “But  have  you  lost 
hope?”  was  the  question  I was  called  upon  to  answer 
without  equivocation. 

Silence  and  tears  which  would  well  up  were  inter- 
preted to  mean  what  my  tongue  refused  to  speak.  My 
brother  perceiving  this,  put  his  hand  on  mine  as  it  lay 
motionless  upon  my  lap,  and  said,  “Cheer  up,  sister  mine  ; 
if  you  could  have  seen  ‘Old  Pat’s’  men  on  drill  his  after- 
noon, you  would  think  we  are  some  ourselves.” 

Colonel  Young  continued  to  seem  very  much  engaged 
outside,  and,  since  the  demonstration  in  my  honor,  had 
given  us  only  an  occasional  glimpse  of  himself.  At 
length  he  came  to  the  door  and  said,  “Lieutenant,  I 
should  like  to  speak  to  you.”  My  brother  responded  to 
the  call,  and  soon  returned  and  said : “As  there  is  a 
hard  day’s  march  before  us  for  to-morrow,  we  must  let 
the  General  get  a little  sleep,  and  this  brave  sister  of 
mine  must  need  it,  too.  Come,  let  me  conduct  you  to 
your  room.” 

Good-byes  were  spoken  that  night  which,  in  the  prov- 
idence of  God,  were  destined  never  to  be  repeated,  and 
Thomie  and  Colonel  Young  led  the  way  to  a bran  new 
tent,  never  used  before,  and  opened  the  door  that  I might 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


189 


enter.  Thomie  said,  “My  room  is  next  to  yours,  sister. 
Pleasant  dreams,  and  refreshing  slumbers,”  and  he  kissed 
me  good  night.  “Good  night,  dear  brother.”  “Good 
night,  dear  friend,”  said  I,  as  he  and  Colonel  Young  left 
the  tent.  By  the  dim  light  I surveyed  the  “room”  and 
its  furnishings,  and  wept  to  think  that  dear  Confederate 
soldiers  had  deprived  themselves  of  comforts  that  I 
might  be  comfortable.  A handsome  buffalo  robe  lay  on 
the  ground ; and  a coat  nicely  folded  for  a pillow,  and  a 
gray  blanket  for  a cover,  invited  me  to  repose.  A small 
pan  of  water  for  morning  ablution,  and  a towel,  and  a 
mirror  about  the  size  of  a silver  dollar,  and  a comb  and 
brush,  furnished  every  needed  convenience.  I removed 
the  skirt  of  my  dress  that  it  might  not  be  wrinkled  in  the 
morning,  and  my  mantle  for  the  same  cause,  and  lay 
down  and  slept,  oh,  how  sweetly,  under  the  protecting 
care  of  those  noble  men,  until  awakened  by  the  sweet  fa- 
miliar voice  of  my  brother,  saying,  “Get  up,  sister,  or 
you  will  not  be  ready  for  the  roll-call,”  was  his  never-to- 
be-forgotten  morning  salutation.  “As  a short  horse  is 
soon  curried,”  it  required  only  a few  moments  to  make 
myself  presentable,  and  just  as  I was  about  announcing 
myself  in  that  condition,  Thomie  again  appeared  at  the 
door  with  a plate  containing  my  breakfast  in  one  hand, 
and  a tin  cup  containing  a decoction,  which  he  called 
coffee,  in  the  other.  “Here  is  your  breakfast,  sister;” 
and  he  added,  “the  ambulance  is  waiting  to  carry  you  to 
Lovejoy’s  station.  Lieutenant  Jewell  and  myself  have 
been  detailed  to  accompany  you  there.” 

The  army  wagons  were  already  falling  in  line  one 


190 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


after  another  and  moving  onward  in  a northwesterly 
direction ; and  what  remained  of  the  infantry  and  cavalry 
of  that  once  magnificent  army,  which  so  often  had 
achieved  victory  under  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  had 
made  their  last  grand  bivouac  on  Georgia  soil,  and  were 
moving  onward  in  the  line  of  march  to  Tennessee,  under 
the  command  of  Hood.  They  were  leaving  many  a gal- 
lant comrade  who  had  bitten  the  dust  and  drenched  the 
soil  of  Georgia  with  his  life-blood,  and  although  they 
must  have  feared  that  the  flag  they  loved  so  well  was 
now  leading  them  to  defeat,  yet  not  one  of  those  true 
hearts  would  have  deserted  it  for  the  wealth  of  India. 
As  they  marched  in  a different  direction  from  that  I was 
going  to  take,  and  the  demand  for  rapid  movement  was 
imperative,  I could  not  follow  them  long  with  my  eye, 
but  the  memory  of  the  little  I saw  will  ever  be  fresh,  and, 
like  an  inspiration  to  me,  their  bayonets  glittered  in  a 
perfect  halo  of  glory,  for  the  mists  and  clouds  of  the 
preceding  day  had  passed  away  during  the  night,  and 
a blue  sky  and  bright  sun  gladdened  the  earth. 

The  two  young  lieutenants  took  seats  opposite  to 
me  in  the  ambulance.  Thus  arranged,  I caught  every 
movement  and  look  of  that  dear  brother  from  whom  I 
was  so  soon  to  part.  He  never  looked  more  handsome, 
or  appeared  to  greater  advantage.  I was  his  guest,  and 
he  entertained  me  with  a “feast  of  reason  and  a flow  of 
soul.”  At  my  request  he  sang  some  of  the  songs  of 
“auld  lang  syne,”  but  he  preferred  to  talk  of  our  mother 
and  our  sister.  He  recalled  incidents  of  his  childhood, 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


191 


and  laughed  heartily  over  some  of  them.  He  spoke  of 
his  Mary  in  Texas  and  his  love  for  her,  and  he  took  from 
his  vest  pocket  the  impression  of  the  foot  and  hand  of 
his  only  child,  a dear  little  boy  whom  he  had  never  seen, 
and  kissed  them,  then  folded  them  carefully  and  put 
them  back  in  his  pocket  and  said : 

“I  must  hurry  back  to  Texas.” 

But  back  of  all  this  glee  and  apparent  hopefulness  1 
saw,  in  characters  unmistakable,  that  he  was  almost  be- 
reft of  hope,  and  sustained  only  by  Christian  resigna- 
tion. 

We  knew  by  the  immense  crowd  of  people  standing 
and  sitting  around  on  improvised  seats,  that  we  were 
approaching  the  station.  The  two  soldiers  got  out  of 
the  ambulance  with  the  elasticity  of  youth  and  health, 
and  Thomie  assisted  me  out.  I stood  for  a moment, 
as  if  uncertain  where  to  go,  and  Lieutenant  Jewell 
grasped  my  hand  and  said : 

“Good-bye,  dear  Miss  Mary!”  and  stepped  back  into 
the  wagon  and  resumed  his  seat. 

Seeing  a large,  square  old  house,  which  appeared 
to  be  full  of  people,  Thomie  and  I advanced  toward  it 
a few  steps.  Suddenly,  as  if  admonished  that  a soldier's 
duties  should  have  precedence  over  everything  else,  he 
took  me  in  his  arms  and  kissed  me  fervently  once,  twice, 
thrice.  I understood  for  whom  they  were  intended — 
that  trio  of  kisses.  Not  a word  did  he  speak,  and  when 
he  turned  his  back  on  me  I saw  him  brush  off  the  silent 
tears,  and  more  than  one  step  was  uneven  before  his 


192 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


nerves  became  steady  and  he  ready  to  report  for  duty. 
I felt  intuitively  that  I should  never  look  upon  his  face 
again,  and  I watched  him  with  riveted  eyes  until  I could 
no  longer  see  him,  and  then  I gazed  upon  the  vehicle 
containing  him  until  it,  too,  disappeared  forever  from 
my  sight.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  I gave  way  to  pent- 
up  sorrow,  and  cried  as  one  without  hope — unreservedly. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


198 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  RETURN  HOME. 

From  Jonesboro  via  Augusta — Scenes  and  Incidents  by  the 
way. — The  lonely  journey  from  Stone  Mountain  to  Decatur. 

Dazed  by  a full  realization  that  my  brother  and 
every  male  relative  and  friend  were  in  the  octopus 
arms  of  war,  cruel  and  relentless,  I stood  riveted  to  the 
spot  where  my  brother  had  parted  from  me,  until 'a 
gentle  hand  touched  my  shoulder,  and  a pleasant  voice 
gave  me  a friendly  greeting.  Turning  I saw  Mrs.  An- 
derson, sister  of  the  brave  and  gallant  Robert  Alston, 
whose  tragic  fate  is  known  to  every  reader  in  this  coun- 
try. 

“I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I have  just  seen  your  brother 
Robert,”  I said. 

“Where?  Where?  Do  tell  me  that  I may  go  to 
him  \”  cried  his  devoted  sister,  laughing  and  weeping 
alternately. 

Having  ascertained  that  the  long  train  of  exiles  would 
not  leave  the  station  for  several  hours,  I offered  to 
conduct  the  tender-hearted  woman  to  the  camp-fire  of 
her  brother.  The  route  took  me  over  the  same  ground 
which  only  a few  moments  ago  I had  traveled  with  my 
own  dear  brother;  and  along  which  I had  seen  so 


194 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


vividly  a lean,  gaunt,  phantom  hand  pointing  at  his  re- 
treating form.  Even  the  horses’  tracks  and  the  ruts 
made  by  the  wheels  could  be  plainly  traced  by  their 
freshness  and  the  yet  quivering  sands ; and  as  I gazed 
upon  them,  I fancied  they  were  connecting  links  be- 
tween me  and  him  which  were  binding  our  souls  to- 
gether, and  which  I would  never  grow  weary  in  follow- 
ing. These  reflections  were  often  disturbed  by  questions 
about  “my  dear  brother  Robert,”  and  by  alternate  sobs 
and  laughter.  The  distance  seemed  much  greater,  now 
that  I was  walking  it,  but  at  length  we  attained  our 
destination,  the  headquarters  of  a few  of  General  John 
Morgan’s  gallant  defenders  of  Southern  homes  and  fire- 
sides. It  would  require  the  descriptive  power  of  a Sims 
or  a Paul  Hayne  to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  the  meeting 
on  this  occasion  of  this  demonstrative  brother  and  sister. 
I will  not  undertake  to  do  so.  He,  too,  was  ready  to 
move  in  that  disastrous  campaign,  which  lost  to  us  the 
creme  de  la  creme  of  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee,  and 
which  aided,  as  if  planned  by  the  most  astute  Federal 
tactician,  Sherman,  in  his  “march  to  the  sea.” 

During  the  interview  between  Colonel  Alston  and 
his  sister,  it  developed  to  him  that  his  pretty  home  had 
been  abandoned  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  enemy  by 
the  family  in  whose  care  he  had  left  it,  and  that  the 
Yankees  had  shipped  his  wife's  elegant  European  piano, 
mirrors  and  furniture,  as  well  as  his  library,  cut  glass 
and  Dresden  china  to  the  North ; and,  besides,  in  the  very 
malignity  of  envy  and  sectional  hate,  had  mutilated  and 
desecrated  his  house  in  a shameful  manner.  His  impre- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


195 


cations  were  fearful ; and  his  vows  to  get  even  with  the 
accursed  Yankees  were  even  more  so.  The  lamb  of  a 
few  moments  ago  was  transformed  into  a lion,  roaring 
and  fierce.  He  accompanied  his  sister  and  myself  on  our 
return  to  the  station ; and  never  will  I forget  that  walk. 

The  station  reached,  the  scene  of  separation  of 
brother  and  sister  was  again  enacted,  and  he,  too,  went 
to  battle-fields,  sanguinary  and  relentless,  she  to  peace- 
full  retreats  undisturbed  by  cannon’s  roar. 

Here,  as  at  Jonesboro,  the  face  of  the  earth  wis  lit- 
erally covered  with  rude  tents  and  side-tracked  cars, 
which  were  occupied  by  exiles  from  home — defenseless 
women  and  children,  and  an  occasional  old  man  totter- 
ing on  the  verge  of  the  grave,  awaiting  their  turn  to 
be  transported  by  over-taxed  railroads  farther  into  the 
constantly  diminishing  land  of  their  love.  During  the 
afternoon  I boarded  an  already  well-filled  south-bound 
train,  and  moved  about  among  its  occupants  as  if  at 
home.  For  were  we  not  one  people,  the  mothers,  wives 
and  sisters  of  Confederates?  The  diversity  of  mind, 
disposition  and  temper  of  this  long  train  of  represen- 
tative women  and  children  of  Atlanta,  and  many  miles 
contiguous,  who  were  carrying  minds  and  hearts  brim- 
ful of  memories  never  to  be  obliterated,  but  rather  to 
harden  into  asphalt  preservation,  was  illustrated  in  vari- 
ous ways.  Some  laughed  and  talked  and  jested,  and 
infused  the  light  and  warmth  of  their  own  sunny  natures 
into  others  less  hopeful ; some  were  morose  and  churlish, 
and  saw  no  hope  in  the  future  and  were  impatient  with 
those  who  did  see  the  silver  lining  beyond  the  dark  cloud 


196 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


suspended  over  us ; and  some  very  plainly  indicated  that 
if  our  cause  failed,  they  would  lose  all  faith  in  a prayer- 
answering God ; and  others  saw  wisdom  and  goodness 
in  all  His  ways  and  dispensations,  and  were  willing  to 
submit  to  any  chastisement  if  it  only  brought  them 
nearer  to  the  Mercy  Seat. 

After  many  delays  and  adventures,  not  of  sufficient 
importance  to  relate,  I reached  Griswoldville.  Here  I 
was  received  with  open  arms  by  that  good  old  father 
and  mother  in  Israel,  Rev.  Dr.  John  S.  Wilson  and  his 
wife,  and  his  excellent  family,  whom  I found  residing  in 
an  old  freight  car.  But  they  were  living  in  a palace 
compared  to  many  of  their  neighbors  and  friends,  who 
had  scarcely  a shelter  to  protect  them  from  the  in- 
clemency of  the  weather.  Every  moment  of  time  with 
these  good  people  was  spent  in  answering  questions 
and  receiving  blessings.  Not  long  after  this  pleasant 
meeting,  Stoneman’s  raiders  came  into  Griswoldville, 
and  the  household  effects  of  Dr.  Wilson’s  family  were 
consumed  by  devouring  torches.  All  their  winter  cloth- 
ing, the  doctor’s  library  and  his  manuscript  sermons, 
were  burned  to  ashes.  These  sermons  were  the  result 
of  the  study  and  experience  of  forty  years.  But  this 
grand  old  soldier  of  the  cross,  although  on  the  verge 
of  threescore  years  and  ten,  faltered  not ; for  his  eye 
was  fixed  on  the  goal  of  his  heavenly  inheritance.  Wher- 
ever he  went,  he  still  preached,  and  died  a few  years 
afterwards  at  his  post  in  Atlanta,  having  missed  but  two 
preaching  appointments  in  all  his  ministry,  one  of  these 
on  the  Sabbath  before  he  died. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


197 


By  a circuitous  route,  which  I can  now  scarcely  re- 
call, in  the  course  of  time  I reached  Augusta,  the  beau- 
tiful. I wended  my  way  through  the  crowded  thorough- 
fares to  the  residence  of  friends  on  Green  street,  where 
my  sister  had  sojourned  for  several  weeks,  far  from 
the  distracting  confusion  of  warfare.  After  all  these 
long  and  varied  years,  I never  see  that  Elysian  street 
without  feeling  as  if  I would  like  to  kneel  and  kiss  the 
ground  whereon  she  found  surcease  of  hostile  tread  and 
rancorous  foe. 

I could  scarcely  approach  the  house,  in  exterior 
beautiful  in  all  that  makes  a home  attractive.  I feared 
that  within  sorrowful  tidings  might  await  me.  No 
word  of  the  absent  sister  had  come  through  the  enemy’s 
lines  since  they  were  first  established,  and  now  I dreaded 
to  hear.  More  than  once  I stood  still  and  tried  to  nerve 
myself  for  the  worst  tidings  that  could  be  communicated. 
And  then  I ascended  the  stone  steps  and  rang  the  door- 
bell. When  the  butler  came,  I hurriedly  asked  if  Miss 
Stokes  was  in.  As  if  apprehending  my  state  of  feelings, 
he  answered  with  a broad  African  grin : “She  is, 
ma’am.” 

The  pressure  of  a mountain  was  removed  from  my 
heart,  and  with  a lighter  step  than  I had  taken  for  some 
time  I entered  that  friendly  portal,  a welcome  guest.  A 
moment  sufficed  for  him  to  carry  the  joyous  tidings  of 
my  presence  to  my  sister,  and,  as  if  by  magic,  she  was 
with  me.  O,  the  joy  and  the  sadness  of  our  meeting! 
To  say  that  each  of  us  was  glad  beyond  our  ability  to 
express  it,  would  be  a tame  statement;  and  yet  neither 


198 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


of  us  was  happy.  There  was  too  much  sadness  con- 
nected with  ourselves  and  our  country  to  admit  of  hap- 
piness ; yet  the  report  of  our  mother’s  fortitude  and  usu- 
ally good  health,  and  the  hopeful  spirit  of  our  brother, 
and  his  numerous  messages  of  love  and  playful  phrase- 
ology, cheered  my  sister  so  much  that  she  rallied  and 
did  all  she  could  to  render  my  brief  stay  with  her  as 
pleasant  as  possible.  And  there  was  a charm  in  her 
sweet  voice  and  pleasant  words  that  were  soothing  to 
me,  and  did  much  to  assuage  my  own  grief.  Nor  were 
our  good  friends  wanting  in  efforts  of  like  character. 
They,  too,  had  drank  deep  of  Marah’s  bitter  waters. 
Two  noble  boys,  yet  in  their  teens,  had  been  laid  upon 
the  sacrificial  altar,  an  oblation  to  their  country.  And 
a fair  young  girl  had  gone  down  into  the  tomb,  as  much 
a sacrifice  to  Southern  rights  as  if  slain  on  the  battle- 
field. One  other  girl  and  her  war-stricken  parents  sur- 
vived, and  they  were  devoting  their  lives  to  the  encour- 
agement of  those  similarly  bereaved. 

Although  I knew  it  would  pain  her  greatly,  I thought 
it  would  be  wrong  to  leave  without  telling  my  sister 
about  Toby’s  death,  and,  therefore,  I told  her.  Like 
our  brother,  she  wept,  but  not  as  one  without  hope.  She 
had  been  his  spiritual  instructor,  and  thoroughly  taught 
him  the  great  and  yet  easy  plan  of  salvation;  and  1 
have  never  doubted  that  he  caught  on  to  it,  and  was 
supported  by  the  arm  of  Jesus,  as  he  “passed  through  the 
dark  valley  and  the  shadow  of  death.” 

The  time  for  leaving  this  peaceful  retreat  came,  and 
was  inexorable ; nor  would  I have  stayed  if  I could. 
There  was  a widowed  mother,  whose  head  was  whitened, 
not  so  much  by  the  frost  of  winters,  as  by  sorrow  and 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


199 


care,  grief  and  bereavement,  awaiting  my  coming — oh, 
so  anxiously  ! Waiting  to  hear  from  the  soldier  son,  who, 
even  for  her  sake,  and  that  of  his  gentle  young  wife  and 
baby  boy  in  Texas,  would  listen  to  no  plan  of  escape 
from  the  dangers  involved  by  his  first  presidential  vote. 
Waiting  to  hear  from  the  fair  young  daughter,  whom 
she  preferred  to  banish  from  home  rather  than  have  her 
exposed  to  the  rude  chances  of  war.  That  she  might  not 
be  kept  in  painful  suspense,  I determined  not  to  linger 
on  the  way.  I,  therefore,  took  the  morning  train  on  the 
good  old  reliable  Georgia  Railroad  for  Social  Circle. 
The  parting  from  my  sister  pained  me  exceedingly ; 
but  I knew  she  had  put  her  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  He 
would  take  care  of  her.  It  may  be  asked  why  I did  not 
have  the  same  faith  regarding  the  preservation  of  my 
brother.  He,  too,  was  a Christian.  “He  that  taketh  the 
sword  shall  perish  by  the  sword,”  is  a divine  assertion, 
and  it  was  constantly  repeating  itself  in  my  ears ; yea, 
I had  heard  him  repeat  it  with  emphasis. 

The  trip  from  Augusta  to  Social  Circle  was  replete 
with  melancholy  interest,  and  differed  very  materially 
from  the  trip  from  Atlanta  to  Jonesboro.  Here  those 
who  had  the  courage  to  do  so  were  returning  to  their 
homes,  and  were  on  the  qui  vive  for  every  item  of  news 
obtainable  from  within  the  enemy’s  lines ; but  nothing 
satisfactory  encouraged  their  hope  of  better  treatment. 
One  marked  difference  appeared  in  the  character  of 
those  who  were  venturing  homeward.  There  was  scrace- 
ly  any  young  persons — not  a single  young  lady.  The 
good  old  mother  railroad  was  very  deliberate  in  her 
movements,  and  gave  her  patrons  time  to  get  acquainted 


200 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


and  chat  a little  on  the  way,  and  this  we  did  without 
restraint. 

We  discussed  the  situation,  and  narrated  our  diver- 
sified experiences,  and  this  interchange  of  thought  and 
feeling  brought  us  very  near  together,  and  made  us 
wondrous  kind  to  one  another.  At  one  of  the  stations 
at  which  the  train  stopped,  and  had  to  wait  a long  while, 
I saw  several  of  the  young  soldiers  from  Decatur. 
Among  them  was  Ryland  Holmes,  and,  I think,  Mose 
Brown. 

About  a dozen  ladies  were  going  within  the  enemy’s 
lines  and  would  there  separate  for  their  respective  homes. 
We  agreed  to  hire  a wagon  team  and  driver  at  Social 
Circle,  that  we  might  take  it  “turn  about”  in  riding  to 
.Stone  Mountain.  As  I was  the  only  one  going  beyond 
that  point,  I determined  to  take  my  chance  from  there 
for  getting  to  Decatur,  and  go  on  foot  if  need  be.  Our 
plan  was  successful,  as,  after  much  effort,  we  obtained 
an  old  rickety  wagon,  which  had  doubtless  done  good 
service  in  its  day,  and  a yoke  of  mis-mated  oxen,  and 
a negro  driver.  For  this  equipage  we  paid  an  enormous 
sum,  and,  thinking  we  ought  to  have  the  full  benefit  of 
it,  we  all  got  into  the  wagon  to  take  a ride.  Compassion 
for  the  oxen,  however,  caused  first  one  and  then  another 
to  descend  to  the  ground,  and  march  in  the  direction  of 
home,  sometimes  two  abreast  and  sometimes  in  single 
file.  Night  overtook  us  at  a house  only  a short  distance 
from  the  Circle,  and  in  a body  we  appealed  for  shelter 
beneath  its  roof.  The  man  of  the  family  was  at  home, 
under  what  circumstances  I have  never  heard,  and  to 
him  we  appealed,  and  from  him  we  received  an  ungra- 
cious “permit”  to  stay  in  his  house.  Seeing  no  inviting 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


201 


prospects  for  rest  and  repose,  I established  myself  in  a 
corner  and  took  out  of  my  reticule  some  nice  German 
wool  that  had  been  given  to  me  by  my  friends  in  Augusta, 
and  cast  on  the  stitches  for  a throat-warmer,  or,  in  the 
parlance  of  that  day,  “a  comforter.”  Mine  host  watched 
the  process  with  much  interest.  When  the  pattern  de- 
veloped he  admired  it,  and  expressed  a wish  to  have  one 
like  it.  Glad  of  the  privilege  to  liquidate  my  indebted- 
ness for  the  prospective  night’s  shelter,  I told  him  if  he 
would  furnish  the  material  I would  knit  him  one  just 
like  it.  The  material  seemed  to  be  in  waiting,  and  was 
brought  forward,  soft,  pretty  lambs’  wool  thread,  and 
I put  it  in  my  already  well-filled  hand  satchel  to  await 
future  manipulation.  The  accommodation  in  the  way  of 
bedding  was  inadequate,  and  more  than  one  of  our  party 
passed  a sleepless  night;  but  what  mattered  it?  Were 
we  not  Confederate  soldiers,  or  very  near  akin  to  them? 

As  the  first  sunbeams  were  darting  about  among  the 
tree  tops,  I donned  my  bonnet  and  bade  adieu  to  our  en- 
tertainers, and  started  on  my  journey  homeward,  walking. 
Being  in  the  very  vigor  of  womanhood,  and  in  perfect 
health,  I never  experienced  the  sensation  of  fatigue,  and 
I verily  believe  I could  have  walked  to  my  desolated  home 
sooner  than  the  most  of  the  resources  within  our  means 
could  have  carried  me ; and  I was  impatient  under  the  re- 
straint and  hindrance  of  slow  teams.  Hence  my  start  in 
advance  of  the  other  ladies.  And  I wanted  to  be  alone. 
The  pent-up  tears  were  constantly  oozing  out  of  my  eyes 
and  trickling  down  my  face,  and  I wanted  to  open  the 
flood-gates  and  let  them  flow  unrestrainedly.  I wanted  to 
cry  aloud  like  a baby.  I plunged  into  the  woods,  for  the 
seldom  traveled  road  was  scarcely  a barrier  to  perfect 


202 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


solitude.  I walked  rapidly,  and  closed  my  eyes  to  all  the 
attractions  of  nature  lest  they  divert  my  mind,  and  ap- 
pease my  hungry  heart.  I wanted  to  cry,  and  was  even 
then  doing  so,  before  I got  ready  for  it.  At  length  I 
came  to  a rivulet  of  crystal  water,  as  pure  as  the  dew 
drops  of  Arcadia.  I sat  down  beside  it  and  mingled  the 
anguished  tears  of  my  very  soul  with  its  sparkling,  ever- 
changing,  nectarian  waters.  I bathed  my  hot  face  and 
hands  in  the  pellucid  stream,  and  still  the  lachrymal 
fountain  flowed  on.  I thought  of  my  lonely  mother,  sur- 
rounded by  those  who  were  seeking  the  subversion  of  all 
that  her  heart  held  dear,  and  I cried.  I thought  of  my 
brother — of  his  toilsome  marches  and  weary  limbs,  and 
of  his  consecrated  life — and  I cried.  I thought  of  the 
fair  young  sister,  still  hopeful  in  early  womanhood,  and 
I refused  to  be  comforted,  and  wept  bitterly.  In  this 
disconsolate  frame  of  mind,  I was  ready  to  give  up  all 
hope  and  yield  to  direful  despair.  At  this  fearful  crisis  a 
still,  small  voice  whispered,  “Peace,  be  still !’’  The  glam- 
our of  love  invested  sky  and  earth  with  supernal  glory. 
The  fountain  of  tears  ceased  to  flow,  and  I looked  around 
upon  the  handiwork  of  the  Great  Supreme  Being  in  whose 
creation  I was  but  an  atom,  and  wondered  that  He  should 
have  been  mindful  of  me — that  He  should  have  given  sur- 
cease of  agony  to  my  sorrowing  soul.  All  nature  chang- 
ed as  if  by  magic,  and  the  witchery  of  the  scene  was  in- 
describable. The  pretty  wildwood  flowers,  as  I bent  my 
admiring  gaze  upon  them,  seemed  to  say  in  beautiful  sil- 
ent language,  “Look  aloft.”  The  birds,  as  they  trilled 
their  morning  roundelay,  said  in  musical  numbers,  “Look 
aloft and  the  merry  rivulet  at  my  feet  affected  serious- 
ness, and  whispered,  “Look  aloft.”  Thus  admonished. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


203 


“in  that  moment  of  darkness,  with  scarce  hope  in  my 
heart,”  I looked  aloft — looked  aloft. 

By  and  by  the  ladies  came  in  sight,  some  walking  and 
others  riding  in  the  wagon ; and  I pitied  most  those  who 
were  in  the  wagon.  As  soon  as  they  were  within  speak- 
ing distance,  one  of  the  ladies  said : “You  should  have 
stayed  for  breakfast.  It  was  quite  appetizing.”  Remind- 
ed of  what  I had  lost,  I was  led  to  compare  it  with  what 
I had  gained,  and  I would  not  have  exchanged  loss  and 
gain  for  anything  in  the  world.  I had  to  admit,  how- 
ever, that  there  was  a vacuum  that  needed  replenishing  ; 
but  I was  inured  to  hunger,  and,  save  a passing  thought, 
I banished  all  desire  for  food,  and  thought  only  of  the 
loved  ones,  so  near  and  yet  so  far,  and  in  spite  of  my- 
self the  fountain  of  tears  was  again  running  over. 

The  long  tramp  to  Stone  Mountain  was  very  lonely. 
Not  a living  thing  overtook  or  passed  us,  and  we  soon 
crossed  over  the  line  and  entered  a warstricken  section  of 
country  where  stood  chimneys  only,  where  lately  were 
pretty  homes  and  prosperity,  now  departed.  Ah,  those 
chimneys  standing  amid  smoldering  ruins ! No  wonder 
they  were  called  “Sherman’s  sentinels,”  as  they  seemed  to 
be  keeping  guard  over  those  scenes  of  desolation.  The 
very  birds  of  the  air  and  beasts  of  the  field  had  fled  to 
other  sections.  By  constant  and  unflagging  locomotion 
we  reached  Stone  Mountain  sometime  during  the  night. 
We  went  to  the  hotel  and  asked  shelter  and  protection, 
and  received  both,  but  not  where  to  lay  our  heads,  as 
those  who  had  preceded  us  had  filled  every  available 
place.  I had  friends  in  the  village,  but  I had  no  assur- 
ance that  they  had  remained  at  home  and  weathered  the 
cyclone  of  war.  Therefore,  early  in  the  morning,  hungry 


204 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


and  footsore,  I started  all  alone  walking  to  Decatur.  The 
solitude  was  terrific,  and  the  feeling  of  awe  was  so  in- 
tense that  I was  startled  by  the  breaking  of  a twig,  or  the 
gruesome  sound  of  my  own  footsteps.  Constantly  re- 
minded by  ruined  homes,  I realized  that  I was  indeed 
within  the  arbitrary  lines  of  a cruel,  merciless  foe,  and 
but  for  my  lonely  mother,  anxiously  awaiting  my  return, 
I should  have  turned  and  run  for  dear  life  until  again 
within  the  boundaries  of  Dixie. 

I must  have  walked  very  rapidly,  for,  before  I was 
aware  of  it,  I found  myself  approaching  Judge  Bryce’s 
once  beautiful  but  now  dilapidated  home.  He  and  his 
good  wife  gave  me  an  affectionate  greeting  and  something 
to  inflate  a certain  vacuum  which  had  become  painfully 
clamorous.  And  they  also  gave  me  that  which  was  even 
more  acceptable — a large  yam  potato  and  a piece  of  sau- 
sage to  take  to  my  mother. 

I begged  Judge  Bryce  to  go  with  me  at  least  part 
of  the  way  to  Decatur,  but  he  was  afraid  to  leave  his 
wife.  His  experience  with  the  Yankees  had  not  been 
an  exceptional  case.  They  had  robbed  him  of  every- 
thing of  value,  silver,  gold,  etc.,  and  what  they  could 
not  carry  away  they  had  destroyed,  and  he  denied  most 
emphatically  that  there  was  a single  gentleman  in  the 
Federal  army.  In  vain  did  I tell  him  that  we  owed  the 
preservation  of  our  lives  to  the  protection  extended  us 
by  the  few  gentlemen  who  were  in  it. 

After  a brief  rest,  I resumed  my  way  homeward,  and 
oh,  with  what  heart-sickening  forebodings  I approached 
that  sacred  though  desolate  abode ! Anon  the  little  town 
appeared  in  the  distance,  and  upon  its  very  limits  I met 
several  of  Colonel  Garrard’s  calvary  officers.  Among 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


205 


them  a diversity  of  temper  was  displayed.  Some  of  them 
appeared  very  glad  to  see  me,  and,  to  anxious  inquiries 
regarding  my  mother,  they  replied  that  they  had  taken 
good  care  of  her  in  my  absence,  and  that  I ought  to  have 
rewarded  them  for  having  done  so  by  bringing  “my  pretty 
young  sister”  home  with  me.  Although  I did  not  enter- 
tain one  iota  of  respect  for  the  Federal  army  as  a whole, 
I knew  there  were  a few  in  its  ranks  who  were  incapable 
of  the  miserable  conduct  of  the  majority,  and  my  heart 
went  out  in  very  tender  gratitude  to  them,  especially 
those  who  had  sought  to  lessen  the  anguish  of  my  mother. 
These  men  threw  the  reins  into  the  hands  of  out-riders, 
and  got  off  their  horses  and  walked  with  me  to  the  door 
of  my  home.  Their  headquarters  were  still  in  the  yard 
and  had  been  ever  since  first  established  there,  with  the 
exception  of  a very  few  days.  My  return  was  truly  a 
memorable  occasion.  Manifestations  assured  me  that  the 
highest  as  well  as  the  lowest  in  that  command  was  glad 
to  see  me,  and  in  their  hearts  welcomed  me  home.  To 
good  Mr.  Fred  Williams  I was  indebted,  in  a large  meas- 
ure, for  kindly  feeling  and  uniform  respect  from  that 
portion  of  the  Federal  army  with  which  I came  in  con- 
tact. 

My  mother  had  seen  me  coming  and  had  retreated 
into  as  secluded  a place  as  she  could  find,  to  compose  her- 
self for  the  meeting,  but  the  effort  was  in  vain.  She 
trembled  like  an  aspen  leaf,  her  lips  quivered  and  her  ton- 
gue could  not  articulate  the  words  she  would  have  spoken. 
Alas ! the  tension  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  I dwelt 
upon  the  fact  that  Thomie  and  Missouri  were  well  and 
had  sent  her  a world  of  love.  I tried  to  infuse  hope  and 
cheerfulness  into  everything  I told  her,  but  she  could  not 


206 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


see  it,  and  her  poor  over-taxed  heart  could  bear  up  no 
longer,  and  she  cried  as  Rachel  weeping  for  her  children, 
long  and  piteously.  No  purer  tears  were  ever  borne  by 
heaven-commissioned  Peri  into  the  presence  of  a com- 
passionate Savior,  than  those  shed  by  that  patriotic 
though  sorrowing  mother. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


207 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ON  THE  VERGE  OF  STARVATION. 


A worn-out  army  horse  is  found — Uncle  Mack  makes  a wagon — 
I make  a unique  trip — Starvation  is  warded  off — Dangers  and 
scenes  by  the  way. 

“What  is  it,  Ma?  Has  anything  happened?” 

“No,  only  Maggie  Benedict  has  been  here  crying  as 
if  her  heart  would  break,  and  saying  that  her  children  are 
begging  for  bread,  and  she  has  none  to  give  them.  Give 
me  a little  of  the  meal  or  hominy  that  you  have,  that  we 
may  not  starve  until  we  can  get  something  else  to  eat, 
and  then  take  the  remainder  to  her  that  she  may  cook  it 
as  quickly  as  possible  for  her  suffering  children.” 

We  had  spent  the  preceding  day  in  picking  out  grains 
of  corn  from  cracks  and  crevices  in  bureau  drawers,  and 
other  improvised  troughs  for  Federal  horses,  as  well  as 
gathering  up  what  was  scattered  upon  the  ground.  In 
this  way  by  diligent  and  persevering  work,  about  a half 
bushel  was  obtained  from  the  now  deserted  camping 
ground  of  Garrard’s  cavalry,  and  this  corn  was  thorough- 
ly washed  and  dried,  and  carried  by  me  and  Telitha  to  a 
poor  little  mill  (which  had  escaped  conflagration,  because 
too  humble  to  attract  attention),  and  ground  into  coarse 
meal  Returning  from  this  mill,  and  carrying,  myself,  a 


208 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


portion  of  the  meal,  I saw  in  the  distance  my  mother  com- 
ing  to  meet  me.  Apprehensive  of  evil,  I ran  to  meet  her 
and  asked : 

“What  is  it,  Ma?  Has  anything  happened?” 

With  flushed  face  and  tear-toned  voice  she  replied 
as  already  stated.  My  heart  was  touched  and  a division 
was  soon  made.  Before  starting  on  this  errand,  I thought 
of  the  probable  delay  that  inexperience  and  perhaps  the 
want  of  cooking  utensils  and  fuel  might  occasion,  and 
su&gested  that  it  would  hasten  the  relief  to  the  children 
to  cook  some  bread  and  mush  and  carry  it  to  them  ready 
for  use.  A boiling  pot,  left  on  the  camping-ground,  was 
soon  on  the  fire  ready  to  receive  the  well-prepared  batter, 
which  was  to  be  converted  into  nutritious  mush  or  por- 
ridge. Nor  was  the  bread  forgotten.  While  the  mush 
was  cooking  the  hoe-cakes  were  baking  in  good  old  plan- 
tation style.  These  were  arranged  one  upon  another, 
and  tied  up  in  a snow-white  cloth ; and  a tin  bucket,  also 
a trophy  from  the  enemy’s  camp,  was  filled  with  hot 
mush.  I took  the  bread,  and  Telitha  the  bucket,  and 
walked  rapidly  to  Doctor  Holmes’  residence,  where  Mag- 
gie Benedict,  whose  husband  was  away  in  the  Confederate 
army,  had  rooms  for  herself  and  her  children.  The  Rev. 
Doctor  and  his  wife  had  refugeed,  leaving  this  young 
mother  and  her  children  alone  and  unprotected. 

The  scene  which  I witnessed  will  never  be  obliterated 
from  my  memory.  On  the  doorsteps  sat  the  young 
mother,  beautiful  in  desolation,  with  a baby  in  her  arms, 
and  on  either  side  of  her  a little  one,  piteously  crying  for 
something  to  eat.  “Oh,  mama,  I want  something  to  eat. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


209 


so  bad.”  “Oh,  mama,  I am  so  hungry — give  me  some- 
thing to  eat.”  Thus  the  children  were  begging  for  what 
the  mother  had  not  to  give.  She  could  only  give  them 
soothing  words.  But  relief  was  at  hand.  Have  you  ever 
enjoyed  the  satisfaction  of  appeasing  the  hunger  of  chil- 
dren who  had  been  without  food  until  on  the  verge  of 
starvation?  If  not,  one  of  the  keenest  enjoyments  of  life 
has  been  denied  you.  O,  the  thankfulness  of  such  a priv- 
ilege! And  oh,  the  joy,  melancholy  though  it  be,  of 
hearing  blessings  invoked  upon  you  and  yours  by  the 
mother  of  those  children ! 

While  this  needful  food  was  being  eaten  with  a zest 
known  only  to  the  hungry,  I was  taking  in  the  situation, 
and  devising  in  my  own  mind  means  by  which  to  render 
more  enduring  relief.  The  meal  we  had  on  hand  would 
soon  be  exhausted,  and,  though  more  might  be  procured 
in  the  same  way,  it  would  be  hazardous  to  depend  upon 
that  way  only.  “God  helps  those  who  help  themselves,” 
is  a good  old  reliable  proverb  that  can  not  be  too  deeply 
impressed  upon  the  mind  of  every  child.  To  leave  this 
young  mother  in  a state  of  absolute  helplessness,  and  her 
innocent  little  ones  dependent  upon  the  precarious  sup- 
port which  might  be  gleaned  from  a devastated  country, 
would  be  cruel  indeed ; but  how  to  obviate  this  state  of 
affairs  was  a serious  question. 

The  railroad  having  been  torn  up  in  every  direction 
communicating  with  Decatur,  there  seemed  to  be  but  one 
alternative — to  walk — and  that  was  not  practicable  with 
several  small  children. 

“Maggie,  this  state  of  affairs  can  not  be  kept  up ; 
have  you  no  friend  to  whom  you  can  go?” 


210 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


“Yes,”  she  replied.  “Mr.  Benedict  has  a sister  near 
Madison,  who  has  wanted  me  and  the  children  to  go  and 
stay  with  her  ever  since  he  has  been  in  the  army,  but  I 
was  too  independent  to  do  it.” 

“Absurd ! Well,  the  time  has  come  that  you  must  go. 
Get  the  children  ready,  and  I will  call  for  you  soon,” 
and  without  any  positive  or  defined  plan  of  procedure, 
I took  leave  of  Maggie  and  her  children.  I was  working 
by  faith,  and  the  Lord  directed  my  footsteps.  On  my  way 
home  I hunted  up  “Uncle  Mack,”  a faithful  old  negro 
man,  who  preferred  freedom  in  the  midst  of  privation 
with  his  own  white  people,  to  following  the  Federal  army 
around  on  “Uncle  Sam’s”  pay-roll,  and  got  from  him  a 
promise  that  he  would  construct  a wagon  out  of  odds  and 
ends  left  upon  the  streets  of  Decatur.  The  next  thing 
to  be  done  was  to  provide  a horse,  and  not  being  a magi- 
cian, nor  possessed  of  Aladdin's  lamp,  this  undertaking 
must  have  seemed  chimerical  to  those  who  had  not  known 
how  often  and  how  singularly  these  scarcely  formulated 
plans  had  developed  into  success.  This  day  had  been  one 
of  constant  and  active  service,  and  was  only  one  of  the 
many  that  furnished  from  sixteen  to  eighteen  working 
hours.  No  wonder,  then,  that  exhausted  nature  suc- 
cumbed to  sleep  that  knew  no  waking  until  the  dawn  of 
another  day. 

Next  morning,  before  the  sun  rose,  accompanied  by 
the  Morton  girls,  I was  on  my  way  to  “the  cane-brakes?’ 
I had  seen  many  horses,  whose  places  had  been  taken  by 
others  captured  from  farmers,  abandoned  and  sent  out  to 
the  cane-brake  to  recuperate  or  to  die,  the  latter  being 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


211 


more  probable.  Without  any  denfiite  knowledge  of  the  lo- 
cality, but  guided  by  an  over-ruling  providence,  I went  to 
the  cane-brake,  and  there  soon  made  a selection  of  a horse, 
which,  from  the  assortment  at  hand,  could  not  have  been 
improved  upon.  By  a dextrous  throw  of  a lasso,  con- 
structed and  managed  by  the  young  friends  already  men- 
tioned, he  was  soon  captured  and  on  his  way  to  Decatur 
to  enter  “rebel”  service.  His  most  conspicuous 
feature  was  a pair  of  as  fine  eyes  as  ever  illuminated 
a horse’s  head,  large,  brown  and  lustrous.  There  were 
other  conspicuous  things  about  him,  too;  for  instance, 
branded  upon  each  of  his  sides  were  the  tell-tale  letters, 
“U.  S.,”  and  on  his  back  was  an  immense  sore  which  also 
told  tales.  By  twelve  o’clock,  noon.  Uncle  Mack  appeared 
upon  the  scene,  pulling  something  which  he  had  impro- 
vised which  baffled  description,  and  which,  for  the  sake 
of  the  faithful  service  I obtained  from  it,  I will  not  at- 
tempt to  describe,  though  it  might  provoke  the  risibilities 
of  the  readers.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  as  it  carried  living 
freight  in  safety  over  many  a bridge,  in  honor  of  this 
I will  call  it  a wagon.  Uncle  Mack  soon  had  the  horse 
secured  to  this  vehicle  by  ropes  and  pieces  of  crocus  sack, 
for  harness  was  as  scarce  a commodity  as  wagons  and 
horses.  I surveyed  the  equipage  from  center  to  circum- 
ference, with  emotions  pathetic  and  amusing.  It  was 
awfully  suggestive.  And  as  I viewed  it  in  all  its  gro- 
tesqueness my  imagination  pictured  a collapse,  and  my 
return  home  from  no  very  distant  point,  upon  my  all- 
fours,  with  one  of  the  fours  dragging  after  me  in  a dilapi- 
dated condition.  I distinctly  heard  the  derisive  gibberish 


212 


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and  laughter  of  old  Momus,and  thought  I should  explode 
in  the  effort  to  keep  from  joining  in  his  mirthfulness.  As 
I turned  to  take  a sly  glance  at  my  mother,  our  eyes  met, 
and  all  restraint  was  removed.  With  both  of  us  laughter 
and  sobs  contended  for  the  mastery,  and  merriment  and 
tears  literally  blended.  Thus  equipped,  and  with  a bene- 
diction from  my  mother,  expressed  more  by  looks  and 
acts  than  by  words,  I gathered  the  ropes  and  started  like 
Bayard  Taylor  to  take  “Views  Afoot,”  and  at  the  same 
time  accomplish  an  errand  of  mercy  which  would  lead 
me,  as  I led  the  horse,  over  a portion  of  country  that  in 
dreariness  and  utter  desolation  baffles  description — 
enough  to  know  that  Sherman’s  foraging  trains  had  been 
over  it.  Leading  the  horse,  which  was  already  christened 
“Yankee,”  to  Dr.  Holmes’  door,  I called  Maggie  to  come 
on  with  her  children. 

“I  can’t  bring  my  things  out,  Miss  Mary.  Somebody 
must  come  to  carry  them  and  put  them  in  the  wagon.” 

“I  can,”  I said,  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
ran  into  the  house  where,  to  my  amazement,  three  large 
trunks  confronted  me.  What  was  to  be  done?  If  they 
could  be  got  into  the  wagon,  what  guarantee  was  there 
that  poor  Yankee  could  haul  them  in  that  tumblesome 
vehicle?  However,  I went  for  Uncle  Mack  to  put  the 
trunks  in  the  wagon,  and  in  front  of  them,  in  close  prox- 
imity to  the  horse’s  heels,  was  placed  a chair  in  which 
Maggie  seated  herself  and  took  her  baby  in  her  lap,  the 
other  children  nestling  on  rugs  at  her  feet. 

Poor  Yankee  seemed  to  feel  the  importance  of  his 
mission,  and  jogged  along  at  a pretty  fair  speed,  and 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


213 


I,  who  walked  by  his  side  and  held  the  ropes,  found  my- 
self more  than  once  obliged  to  strike  a trot  in  order  to 
maintain  control  of  him.  Paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  I 
enjoyed  this  new  phase  in  my  service  to  the  Confed- 
eracy— none  but  a patriot  could  render  it,  and  the  whole 
thing  seemed  invested  with  the  glamour  of  romance,  the 
sequel  of  which  would  be  redemption  from  all  connec- 
tion with  a people  who  could  thus  afflict  another  people 
of  equal  rights.  While  Maggie  hummed  a sweet  little  lul- 
laby to  her  children,  I contemplated  the  devastation  and 
ruin  on  every  side.  Not  a vestige  of  anything  remained  to 
mark  the  sites  of  the  pretty  homes  which  had  dotted  this 
fair  country  before  the  destroyer  came,  except,  perhaps, 
a standing  chimney  now  and  then.  And  all  this  struck 
me  as  the  willing  sacrifice  of  a peerless  people  for  a 
great  principle,  and  looking  through  the  dark  vista  I 
saw  light  ahead- — I saw  white-robed  peace  proclaiming 
that  the  end  of  carnage  had  come.  Even  then,  as  I 
jogged  along  at  a snail’s  pace  (for  be  it  known  Yankee 
was  not  uniform  in  his  gait,  and  as  his  mistress  had 
relaxed  the  tension  of  the  ropes,  he  had  relaxed  the  speed 
of  his  steps)  up  a pretty  little  hill  from  whose  summit 
I had  often  gazed  with  rapturous  admiration  upon  the 
beautiful  mountain  of  granite  near  by,  I had  so  com- 
pletely materialized  the  Queen  of  Peace  that  I saw  her  on 
the  mountain’s  crest,  scattering  with  lavish  hand  blessings 
and  treasures  as  a recompense  for  the  destruction  so  wan- 
tonly inflicted.  Thus  my  hopeful  temperament  furnished 
consolation  to  me,  even  under  darkest  circumstances. 

Maggie  and  the  children  became  restive  in  their  pent- 


214 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


up  limits,  and  the  latter  clamored  for  something  to  eat, 
but  there  was  nothing  to  give  them.  Night  was  upon  us, 
and  we  had  come  only  about  eight  miles,  and  not  an  ani- 
mate thing  had  we  seen  since  we  left  Decatur,  not  even 
a bird,  and  the  silence  was  unbroken  save  by  the  sound 
of  the  horse’s  feet  as  he  trod  upon  the  rocks,  and  the  soft, 
sweet  humming  of  the  young  mother  to  her  dear  little 
ones.  Step  by  step  we  seemed  to  descend  into  the  cav- 
erns of  darkness,  and  my  brave  heart  began  to  falter. 
The  children,  awestruck,  had  ceased  their  appeal  for 
bread,  and  nestled  closer  to  their  mother,  and  that  they 
might  all  the  more  feel  her  protecting  presence,  she  kept 
up  a constant  crooning  sound,  pathetic  and  sad.  Step 
by  step  we  penetrated  the  darkness  of  night — a night 
without  a moon,  starless  and  murky.  The  unerring  in- 
stinct of  an  animal  was  all  we  had  to  guide  us  in  the 
beaten  road,  which  had  ceased  to  be  visible  to  human 
ken. 

A faint  glimmer  of  light,  at  apparently  no  very  great 
distance,  gave  hope  that  our  day’s  journey  was  almost 
ended.  Yankee  also  caught  the  inspiration  and  walked 
a little  faster.  Though  the  time  seemed  long,  the  cabin, 
for  such  it  proved  to  be,  was  finally  reached,  and  I 
dropped  the  ropes,  and,  guided  by  the  glimmer  of  light 
through  the  cracks,  went  to  the  door  and  knocked,  at 
the  same  time  announcing  my  name.  The  door  was 
quickly  opened.  Imagine  my  surprise  when  recognized 
and  cordially  recognized  by  a sweet  friend,  whose  most 
humble  plantation  cabin  was  a pretty  residence  in  com- 
parison with  the  one  she  now  occupied.  Maggie,  too, 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


215 


as  the  daughter  of  a well-known  physician,  received  cor- 
dial welcome  for  herself  and  children.  And  thus  a kind 
Providence  provided  a safe  lodging  place  for  the  night. 

Nature  again  asserted  itself,  and  the  children  asked 
for  something  to  eat.  The  good  lady  of  the  house  kissed 
them  and  told  them  that  supper  would  soon  be  ready. 
The  larger  one  of  her  little  sons  drew  from  a bed  of 
ashes,  which  had  been  covered  by  glowing  coals,  some 
large  yam  potatoes  which  he  took  to  a table  and  peeled. 
He  then  went  outside  the  cabin  and  drew  from  a keg  an 
earthen-ware  pitcher  full  of  sparkling  persimmon  beer, 
which  he  dispensed  to  us  in  cups,  and  then  handed  around 
the  potatoes.  And  how  much  this  repast  was  enjoyed! 
Good  sweet  yams  thoroughly  cooked,  and  the  zestful 
persimmon  beer ! And  I thought  of  the  lonely  mother  at 
a desolated  home,  whose  only  supper  had  been  made  of 
coarse  meal,  ground  from  corn  which  her  own  hands  had 
helped  to  pick  from  crevices  and  cracks  in  improvised 
troughs,  where  Garrard’s  cavalry  had  fed  their  horses. 
After  awhile  the  sweet  womanly  spirit  that  presided  over 
this  little  group,  got  a quilt  and  a shawl  or  two,  and 
made  a pallet  for  the  children.  The  boys  put  more  wood 
upon  the  fire,  and  some  in  the  jambs  of  the  fireplace, 
to  be  used  during  the  night ; and  then  they  went  behind 
us  and  lay  down  upon  the  floor,  with  seed  cotton  for 
pillows,  and  the  roof  for  covering.  Our  kind  hostess 
placed  additional  wraps  over  the  shoulders  of  Maggie 
and  myself,  and  we  three  sat  up  in  our  chairs  and  slept 
until  the  dawn. 

Accustomed  to  looking  after  out-door  interests,  I went 


216 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


to  see  how  Yankee  was  coming  on,  and  found  him  none 
the  worse  for  the  preceding  day’s  toil.  Everything  indi- 
cated that  he  had  fared  as  sumptuously  as  we  had — a 
partly-eaten  pumpkin,  corn,  whole  ears  yet  in  the  trough, 
and  fodder  near  by,  plainly  showed  the  generosity  of  the 
noble  little  family  that  took  us  in  and  gave  us  the  best 
they  had.  After  breakfast  we  bade  adieu  to  the  good 
mother  and  her  children,  and  went  on  our  way,  if  not  re- 
joicing, at  least  feeling  better  for  having  seen  and  been 
with  such  good  people.  There  was  a strong  tie  between 
us  all.  The  husband  and  father  was  off  in  the  army,  like 
our  loved  ones.  The  generous  feeding  given  to  our  steed 
had  so  braced  him  up  that  he  began  to  walk  faster,  and 
was  keenly  appreciative  of  every  kind  word ; and  I and 
he  formed  a friendship  for  each  other  that  continued  to 
his  dying  day.  The  road  was  very  rough  and  hilly,  and 
more  than  once  he  showed  signs  of  fatigue;  but  a word 
of  encouragement  seemed  to  renew  his  strength,  and  he 
walked  bravely  on.  Maggie  would  perhaps  have  light- 
ened his  load  by  walking  now  and  then,  but  the  jolting 
of  the  wagon  kept  the  trunks  in  perpetual  motion,  and 
the  lives  of  the  children  would  thereby  have  been  jeop- 
ardized. 

Nothing  of  special  interest  transpired  this  second 
day  of  our  journey.  The  same  fiend  of  destruction  had 
laid  his  ruthless  hand  upon  everything  within  his  reach. 
The  woods  had  been  robbed  of  their  beauty  and  the  fields 
of  their  products ; not  even  a bird  was  left  to  sing  a 
requiem  over  the  scene  of  desolation,  or  an  animal  to 
suggest  where  once  had  been  a habitation.  Once,  crouch- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


217 


ing  near  a standing  chimney,  there  was  a solitary  dog 
who  kept  at  bay  every  attempt  to  approach — no  kind  word 
would  conciliate  or  put  him  off  his  guard.  Poor,  lonely 
sentinel!  Did  he  remember  that  around  the  once  cheer- 
ful hearthstone  he  had  been  admitted  to  a place  with 
the  family  group?  Was  he  awaiting  his  master’s  return? 
Ah,  who  can  know  the  emotions,  or  the  dim  reasonings 
of  that  faithful  brute? 

Night  again  came  on  and  I discovered  that  we  were 
approaching  the  hospitable  mansion  of  Mr.  Montgomery, 
an  excellent  courtly  country  gentleman,  who  was  at  home 
under  circumstances  not  now  remembered.  He  and  his 
interesting  family  gladly  welcomed  me  and  my  little 
charge,  and  entertained  us  most  hospitably.  The  raiders 
had  been  here  and  helped  themselves  bountifully,  but 
they  had  spared  the  house  for  another  time,  and  that 
other  time  came  soon,  and  nothing  was  left  on  the  site 
of  this  beautiful  home  but  ubiquitous  chimneys. 

An  early  start  the  next  day  enabled  Yankee  to  carry 
Maggie  and  her  children  and  the  trunks  to  Social  Circle 
in  time  to  take  the  noon  train  for  Madison.  So  far  as 
Maggie  and  her  children  were  concerned,  I now  felt  that 
I had  done  all  that  I could,  and  that  I must  hasten 
back  to  my  lonely  mother  at  Decatur ; but  Maggie’s  tear- 
ful entreaties  not  to  be  left  among  strangers  prevailed 
with  me,  and  I got  aboard  the  train  with  her,  and  never 
left  her  until  I had  placed  her  and  her  children  in  the 
care  of  good  Mr.  Thrasher  at  Madison,  to  be  conveyed 
by  him  to  the  home  of  Mrs.  Reeves,  her  husband’s  sister,. 

In  Madison,  I too  had  dear  friends  and  relatives, 


218 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


with  whom  I spent  the  night,  and  the  morning’s  train 
bore  me  back  to  Social  Circle,  then  the  terminus  of  the 
Georgia  Railroad — the  war  fiend  having  destroyed  every 
rail  between  there  and  Atlanta.  Arriving  there,  imagine 
my  surprise  and  indignation  when  I learned  that  Mr. 

R , whom  I had  paid  in  advance  to  care  for  Yankee 

while  I was  gone  to  Madison,  had  sent  him  out  to  his 
sorghum  mill  and  put  him  to  grinding  cane ; and  it  was 
with  much  difficulty  and  delay  that  I got  him  in  time  to 
start  on  my  homeward  journey  that  afternoon.  Instead 
of  his  being  rested,  he  was  literally  broken  down,  and  my 
pity  for  him  constrained  me  to  walk  every  step  of  the 
way  back  to  Decatur.  While  waiting  for  the  horse,  I pur- 
chased such  articles  of  food  as  I could  find.  For  in- 
stance, a sack  of  flour,  for  which  I paid  a hundred  dol- 
lars, a bushel  of  potatoes,  several  gallons  of  sorghum, 
a few  pounds  of  butter,  and  a few  pounds  of  meat.  Even 
this  was  a heavy  load  for  the  poor  jaded  horse.  Starting 
so  late  I could  only  get  to  the  hospitable  home  of  Mr. 
Crew,  distant  only  about  three  miles  from  “The  Circle.” 

Before  leaving  Mr.  Crew’s  the  next  morning,  I 
learned  that  an  immense  Yankee  raid  had  come  out  from 
Atlanta,  and  had  burned  the  bridge  which  I had  crossed 
only  two  days  ago.  This  information  caused  me  to  take 
another  route  to  Decatur,  and  my  heart  lost  much  of  its 
hope  and  my  step  its  alacrity.  Yet  the  Lord  sustained  me 
in  the  discharge  of  duty.  I never  wavered  when  there  was 
a principle  to  be  guarded  or  a duty  to  be  performed. 
Those  were  praying  days  with  me,  and  now  I fervently 
invoked  God’s  aid  and  protection  in  my  perilous  un- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


219 


dertaking,  and  I believed  that  He  would  grant  aid  and 
protection. 

That  I might  give  much  needed  encouragement  to 
Yankee,  I walked  by  his  side  with  my  hand  upon  his 
shoulder  much  of  the  time,  an  act  of  endearment  which 
he  greatly  appreciated,  and  proved  that  he  did  so  by  the 
expression  of  his  large  brown  eyes.  One  of  my  idiosyn- 
crasies through  life  has  been  that  of  counting  everything, 
and  as  I journeyed  homeward,  I found  myself  counting 
my  steps  from  one  to  a thousand  and  one.  As  there  is 
luck  in  odd  numbers,  says  Rory  O’Moore,  I always  ended 
with  the  traditional  odd  number,  and  by  telling  Yankee 
how  much  nearer  home  we  were.  And  I told  him  many 
things,  among  them,  sotto  voce , that  I did  not  believe 
he  was  a Yankee,  but  a captured  rebel.  If  a tuft  of  grass 
appeared  on  the  roadside,  he  was  permitted  to  crop  it ; 
or  if  a muscadine  vine  with  its  tempting  grapes  was  dis- 
covered, he  cropped  the  leaves  off  the  low  shrubbery,  while 
I gathered  the  grapes  for  my  mother  at  home  with  noth- 
ing to  eat  save  the  one  article  of  diet,  of  which  I have 
told  before. 

A minute  description  of  this  portion  of  the  war-strick- 
en country  would  fill  a volume ; but  only  the  leading  in- 
cidents and  events  of  the  journey  are  admissible  in  a 
reminiscence  of  war  times.  In  the  early  part  of  the  day, 
during  this  solitary  drive,  I came  to  a cottage  by  the  way- 
side  that  was  a perfect  gem — an  oasis,  an  everything  that 
could  thrill  the  heart  by  its  loveliness.  Flowers  of  every 
hue  beautified  the  grounds  and  sweetened  the  air,  and 
peace  and  plenty  seemed  to  hold  undisputed  sway.  The 


220 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Fiend  of  Destruction  had  not  yet  reached  this  little  Eden. 
Two  gentlemen  were  in  the  yard  conversing.  I perceived 
at  a glance  that  they  were  of  the  clerical  order,  and  would 
fain  have  spoken  to  them ; but  not  wishing  to  disturb 
them,  or  attract  attention  to  myself,  I was  passing  by  as 
unobtrusively  as  possible,  when  I was  espied  and  recog- 
nized by  one  of  them,  who  proved  to  be  that  saintly  man, 
Rev.  Walter  Branham.  He  introduced  me  to  his  friend, 
Professor  Stone,  of  Oxford.  Their  sympathy  for  me  was 
plainly  expressed,  and  they  gave  me  much  needed  in- 
struction regarding  the  route,  and  suggested  that  I would 
about  get  to  Rev.  Henry  Clark’s  to  put  up  for  the  night. 
With  a hearty  shake  of  the  hand,  and  “God  bless  you, 
noble  woman,”  I pursued  my  lonely  way  and  they  went 
theirs.  No  other  adventure  enlivened  the  day,  and  poor, 
patient  Yankee  did  the  best  he  could,  and  so  did  I.  It 
was  obvious  that  he  had  done  about  all  he  could.  Grind- 
ing sorghum  under  a hard  taskmaster,  with  an  empty 
stomach,  had  told  on  him,  and  he  could  no  longer  quicken 
his  pace  at  the  sound  of  a friendly  voice. 

At  length  we  came  in  sight  of  “Uncle  Henry  Clark’s” 
place.  I stood  amazed,  bewildered.  I felt  as  if  I would 
sink  to  the  ground,  yea,  through  it.  I was  riveted  to  the 
spot  on  which  I stood.  I could  not  move.  At  length  I 
cried — cried  like  a woman  in  despair.  Poor  Yankee  must 
have  cried,  too  (for  water  ran  out  of  his  eyes),  and  in 
some  measure  I was  quieted,  for  misery  loves  company, 
and  I began  to  take  in  the  situation  more  calmly.  Elegant 
^rosewood  and  mahogany  furniture,  broken  into  a thou- 
sand fragments,  covered  the  face  of  the  ground  as  far 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


221 


as  I could  see ; and  china  and  glass  looked  as  if  it  had 
been  sown.  And  the  house,  what  of  that?  Alas!  it,  too, 
had  been  scattered  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven  in  the 
form  of  smoke  and  ashes.  Not  even  a chimney  stood  to 
mark  its  site.  Near  by  stood  a row  of  negro  cabins,  in- 
tact, showing  that  while  the  conflagration  was  going  on 
they  had  been  sedulously  guarded.  And  these  cabins 
were  occupied  by  the  slaves  of  the  plantation.  Men,  wo- 
men and  children  stalked  about  in  restless  uncertainty, 
and  in  surly  indifference.  They  had  been  led  to  believe 
that  the  country  would  be  apportioned  to  them,  but  they 
had  sense  enough  to  know  that  such  a mighty  revolution 
involved  trouble  and  delay,  and  they  were  supinely  wait- 
ing developments.  Neither  man,  woman  nor  child  ap- 
proached me.  There  was  mutual  distrust  and  mutual 
avoidance. 

It  took  less  time  to  take  in  the  situation  than  it 
has  to  describe  it.  The  sun  was  almost  down,  and  as  he 
turned  his  large  red  face  upon  me,  I fancied  he  fain 
would  have  stopped  in  his  course  to  see  me  out  of  this 
dilemma.  What  was  I to  do?  The  next  nearest  place 
that  I could  remember  that  would  perhaps  give  pro- 
tection for  the  night  was  Mr.  Fowler’s,  and  this  was  my 
only  hope.  With  one  hand  upon  Yankee’s  shoulder,  and 
the  ropes  in  the  other,  I moved  on,  and  not  until  my  ex- 
piring breath  will  I forget  the  pleading  look  which  that 
poor  dumb  animal  turned  upon  me  when  I started.  Ut- 
terly hopeless,  and  in  my  hands,  he  wondered  how  I 
could  thus  exact  more  of  him.  I wondered  myself.  But 
what  was  I to  do  but  to  move  on  ? And  with  continuous 


222 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


supplication  for  the  Lord  to  have  mercy  upon  me,  I moved 
on.  More  than  once  the  poor  horse  turned  that  look,  be- 
seeching and  pathetic,  upon  me.  It  frightened  me.  I 
did  not  understand  it,  and  still  moved  on.  At  last  the 
hope  of  making  himself  understood  forsook  him,  and  he 
deliberately  laid  himself  down  in  the  road.  I knelt  by 
his  side  and  told  him  the  true  state  of  affairs,  and  im- 
plored him  not  to  desert  me  in  this  terrible  crisis.  I 
told  him  how  cruel  it  would  be  to  do  so,  and  used  many 
arguments  of  like  character;  but  they  availed  nothing. 
He  did  not  move,  and  his  large,  lustrous  brown  eyes 
seemed  to  say  for  him : “I  have  done  all  I can,  and  can 
do  no  more.”  And  the  sun  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and 
hid  his  crimson  face  behind  a great  black  cloud. 

What  could  I do  but  rise  from  my  imploring  attitude 
and  face  my  perilous  situation?  “Lord  have  mercy  upon 
me,”  was  my  oft-repeated  invocation.  The  first  thing 
which  greeted  my  vision  when  I rose  to  my  feet  was  a 
very  distant  but  evidently  an  advancing  object.  I watched 
it  with  bated  breath,  and  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  see- 
ing a man  on  mule-back.  I ran  to  meet  him,  saying: 
“O,  sir,  I know  the  good  Lord  has  sent  you  here.”  And 
then  I recounted  my  trouble,  and  received  most  cordial 
sympathy  from  one  who  had  been  a Confederate  soldier, 
but  who  was  now  at  home  in  consequence  of  wounds  that 
incapacitated  him  for  further  service.  When  he  heard 
all,  he  said : 

“I  would  take  you  home  with  me,  but  I have  to  cross 
a swimming  creek  before  getting  there,  and  I am  afraid 
to  undertake  to  carry  you.  Wait  here  until  I see  these 
negroes.  They  are  a good  set,  and  whatever  they  promise, 
they  will,  I think,  carry  out  faithfully.” 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


223 


The  time  seemed  interminable  before  he  came  back, 
and  night,  black  night,  had  set  in ; and  yet  a quiet  resig- 
nation sustained  me. 

When  my  benefactor  returned,  two  negro  men  came 
with  him,  one  of  whom  brought  a lantern,  bright  and 
cheery.  “I  have  arranged  for  you  to  be  cared  for  here,” 
said  he.  ‘‘Several  of  the  old  house  servants  of  Mrs. 
Clark  know  you,  and  they  will  prove  themselves  worthy 
of  the  trust  we  repose  in  them.”  I accepted  the  arrange- 
ment made  by  this  good  man,  and  entrusted  myself  to 
the  care  of  the  negroes  for  the  night.  This  I did  with 
great  trepidation,  but  as  soon  as  I entered  the  cabin  an 
assurance  of  safety  tilled  my  mind  with  peace,  and  rec- 
onciled me  to  my  surroundings.  The  “mammy”  that  pre- 
sided over  it  met  me  with  a cordial  welcome,  and  as- 
sured me  that  no  trouble  would  befall  me  under  her  roof. 
An  easy  chair  was  placed  for  me  in  one  corner  in  com- 
fortable proximity  to  a large  plantation  fire.  In  a few 
minutes  the  men  came  in  bringing  my  flour,  potatoes, 
syrup,  bacon,  etc.  This  sight  gave  me  real  satisfaction, 
as  I thought  of  my  poor,  patient  mother  at  home,  and 
hoped  that  in  some  way  I should  yet  be  able  to  convey 
to  her  this  much-needed  freight.  I soon  espied  a table 
on  which  was  piled  many  books  and  magazines ; “Uncle 
Henry  Clark’s”  theological  books  were  well  represented. 
I proposed  reading  to  the  women,  if  they  would  like  to 
hear  me,  and  soon  had  their  undivided  attention,  as  well 
as  that  of  several  of  the  men,  who  sat  on  the  doorsteps. 
In  this  way  several  hours  passed,  and  then  “mammy” 
said,  “You  must  be  getting  sleepy.”  “Oh,  no,”  I replied. 
“I  frequently  sit  up  all  night  reading.”  But  this  did  not 
satisfy  her ; she  had  devised  in  her  own  mind  something 


224 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


more  hospitable  for  her  guest,  and  she  wanted  to  see  it 
carried  out.  Calling  into  requisition  the  assistance  of  the 
men,  she  had  two  large  cedar  chests  placed  side  by  side, 
and  out  of  these  chests  were  taken  nice  clean  quilts,  and 
snow-white  counterpanes,  and  sheets,  and  pillows — Mrs. 
Clark’s  beautiful  bed-clothing — and  upon  those  chests 
was  made  a pallet  upon  which  a queen  might  have  re- 
posed with  comfort.  It  was  so  tempting  in  its  cleanli- 
ness that  I consented  to  lie  down.  The  sole  occupants 
of  that  room  that  night  were  myself  and  my  hostess — 
the  aforesaid  black  “mammy.”  Rest,  not  sleep,  came  to 
my  relief.  The  tramping  of  feet,  and  now  and  then  the 
muffled  sound  of  human  voices,  kept  me  in  a listening 
attitude,  and  it  must  be  confessed  in  a state  of  painful 
apprehension.  Thus  the  night  passed. 

With  the  dawn  of  day  I was  up  and  ready  to  meet  the 
day’s  requirements.  “Mammy’s”  first  greeting  was, 
“What’s  your  hurry?”  “I  am  accustomed  to  early  ris- 
ing. May  I open  the  door?”  The  first  thing  I saw  was 
Yankee,  and  he  was  standing  eating;  but  he  was  evidently 
too  weak  to  attempt  the  task  of  getting  that  cumbersome 
vehicle  and  its  freight  to  Decatur.  So  I arranged  with 
one  of  the  men  to  put  a steer  to  the  wagon  and  carry 
them  home.  This  he  was  to  do  for  the  sum  of  one 
■ hundred  dollars.  After  an  appetizing  breakfast,  I started 
homeward,  leading  Yankee  in  the  rear  of  this  turnout. 
Be  it  remembered,  I did  not  leave  without  making  ample 
compensation  for  my  night’s  entertainment. 

No  event  of  particular  interest  occurred  on  the  way 
to  Decatur.  Yankee  walked  surprisingly  well,  and  the 
little  steer  acquitted  himself  nobly.  In  due  time  Decatur 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


225 


appeared  in  sight,  and  then  there  ensued  a scene  which 
for  pathos  defies  description.  Matron  and  maiden, 
mother  and  child,  each  with  a tin  can,  picked  up  off  the 
enemy’s  camping-ground,  ran  after  me  and  begged  for 
just  a little  something  to  eat — just  enough  to  keep  them 
from  starving.  Not  an  applicant  was  refused,  and  by 
the  time  the  poor,  rickety,  cumbersome  wagon  reached 
its  destination,  its  contents  had  been  greatly  diminished. 
But  there  was  yet  enough  left  to  last  for  some  time  the 
patient,  loving  mother,  the  faithful  Telitha,  and  myself. 

A summary  of  the  trip  developed  these  facts : To  the 
faithfulness  of  Uncle  Made  was  due  the  holding  together 
of  the  most  grotesque  vehicle  ever  dignified  by  the  name 
of  wagon ; over  all  that  road  it  remained  intact,  and  re- 
turned as  good  as  when  it  started.  And  but  for  the 
sorghum  grinding,  poor  Yankee  would  have  acted  his 
part  unfalteringly.  As  for  myself,  I labored  under  the 
hallucination  that  I was  a Confederate  soldier,  and  deemed 
no  task  too  great  for  me  to  essay,  if  it  but  served' 
either  directly  or  indirectly  those  who  were  fighting  my 
battles. 


226 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A SECOND  TRIP  FOR  SUPPLIES. 

Gathering  “fodder”  from  a cane-brake  as  a preliminary — The 
lonely  journey — Changing  Yankee’s  name — I meet  the  Fed- 
eral raiders. 

At  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  of  a bright  autum- 
nal day,  that  memorable  year  1864 — the  saddest  of  them 
all — Yankee  was  roped  (not  bridled,  mark  you),  and 
crocus  sacks,  four  for  him,  one  for  Telitha,  and  one  for 
myself,  thrown  over  his  back,  and  we  three,  boon  com- 
panions in  diversified  industries,  scampered  off  to  a 
neighboring  cane-brake — a favorite  resort  in  those  days, 
but  now,  alas  for  human  gratitude ! never  visited  for  the 
sake  of  “auld  lang  syne.” 

Perfect  health — thanks  to  the  parents  who  transmit- 
ted no  constitutional  taint  to  my  veins — unusual  strength, 
and  elasticity  of  motion,  soon  carried  me  there,  and  hav- 
ing secured  Yankee  to  a clump  of  canes  luxuriant  with 
tender  twigs  and  leaves,  sweetened  by  the  cool  dew  of 
the  season,  Telitha  and  I entered  upon  the  work  of  cut- 
ting twigs  and  pulling  fodder. 

There  being  no  drainage  in  those  times,  I often 
stepped  upon  little  hillocks,  covered  with  grass  or  aquatic 
vegetation,  that  yielded  to  my  weight,  and  I sunk  into 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


227 


the  mud  and  water  ankle-deep,  at  least,  and  Telitha  was 
going  through  with  similar  experiences.  I often  laughed 
at  her  grimaces  and  other  expressions  of  disgust  in 
the  slough  of  despond,  and  rejoiced  with  her  when  she 
displayed  the  trophies  of  success,  consisting  of  nice  brit- 
tle twigs,  generously  clad  in  tender  leaves  and  full 
growth ; Yankee,  too,  was  unmindful  of  small  difficulties, 
and  did  his  “level”  best  in  providing  for  a rainy  day 
by  filling  his  capacious  paunch  brimful  of  the  good  things 
so  bountifully  supplied  by  Providence  in  the  marshes  of 
old  DeKalb.  By  the  time  the  aforesaid  half  dozen  sacks 
were  filled,  the  enlargement  of  that  organ  of  his  anatomy 
suggested  that  he  proposed  carrying  home  about  as  much 
inside  of  him  as  might  be  imposed  upon  his  back — of 
this  sagacity  he  seemed  conscious  and  very  proud,  and 
when  the  sacks  of  cane  were  put  over  his  back,  pannier 
fashion,  he  pursued  the  path  homeward  with  prouder  air 
and  nobler  mien  than  that  which  marked  his  course  to 
the  cane-brake. 

When  we  three  were  fully  equipped  for  starting  back 
to  the  deserted  village,  Yankee,  as  already  described,  and 
I with  a sack  of  cane  thrown  over  my  right  shoulder, 
and  reaching  nearly  to  my  heels,  and  Telitha,  in  apparel 
and  equipment  an  exact  duplicate  of  myself,  I was  so 
overcome  by  the  ludicrous  features  of  the  scene  that  for 
the  time  I lost  sight  of  the  pathetic  and  yielded  to  inor- 
dinate laughter.  As  memory,  electrical  and  veracious, 
recapitulated  the  facts  and  circumstances  leading  to  this 
state  of  affairs,  I realized  that  there  was  but  one  alter- 
native— to  laugh  or  to  cry — but  the  revolutionary  blood 


228 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


coursing  through  my  veins  decided  in  favor  of  the  for- 
mer, and  I laughed  until  I could  no  longer  stand  erect, 
even  though  braced  by  an  inflexible  bag  of  cane,  and  I 
ignominiously  toppled  over.  As  I lay  upon  the  ground 
I laughed,  not  merrily,  but  grimly,  as  I fancy  a hyena 
would  laugh.  The  more  I sought  the  sympathy  of  Teli- 
tha  in  this  hilarious  ebullition,  the  more  uncontrollable 
it  became.  Her  utter  want  of  appreciation  of  the  fun, 
and  a vague  idea  that  she  was  in  some  way  implicated, 
embarrassed  her,  and,  judging  from  her  facial  expression, 
ever  varying  and  often  pathetic,  wounded  her  also.  In 
vain  did  I point  to  our  docile  equine,  whose  tethering 
line  she  held.  His  enlarged  proportions  and  grotesque 
accoutrements  failed  to  touch  a single  risible  chord,  or 
convey  to  her  utilitarian  mind  aught  that  was  amusing, 
and  she  doubtless  wondered  what  could  have  so  affected 
me. 

In  due  time  we  reached  Decatur.  After  passing  the 
Hoyle  place,  the  residence  being  then  deserted,  Telitha 
indicated  by  signs  too  intelligible  to  be  misunderstood 
that  she  would  go  home  with  her  sack  of  stock  proven- 
der, leading  the  horse,  and  then  come  back  for  mine,  and 
I could  go  by  a different  route  and  not  be  known  as  a 
participant  in  the  raid  upon  the  cane-brake;  but  I was 
too  proud  of  my  fidelity  to  the  Southern  Confederacy  to 
conceal  any  evidences  of  it  that  the  necessities  of  the 
times  called  into  action,  and  I walked  through  the  stricken 
village  with  my  sack  of  cane  in  my  arms  instead  of  upon 
my  back ; and  would  have  walked  as  proudly  to  the  sacri- 
ficial altar,  myself  the  offering,  if  by  so  doing  I could 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


229 


have  retrieved  the  fortunes  of  my  people  and  established 
for  them  a government  among  the  nations  of  earth. 

The  lowing  of  our  cow  reached  me  as  I entered  the 
court-house  square,  and  I hastened  my  gait  and  soon  dis- 
played before  her,  in  her  stall  in  the  cellar,  a tempting 
repast.  And  my  mother,  who  possessed  the  faculty  of 
making  something  good  out  of  that  which  was  ordinary, 
displayed  one  equally  tempting  to  me  and  Telitha — milk 
and  mush,  supplemented  by  coffee  made  of  parched  okra 
seed. 

“Tired  nature’s  sweet  restorer”  faithfully  performed 
its  recuperative  service  that  night.  When  I opened  my 
eyes  upon  the  glorious  light  of  another  day,  I was  so 
free  from  the  usual  attendants  upon  fatigue  that  I in- 
voluntarily felt  for  my  body— it  seemed  to  have  passed 
away  during  the  night,  and  left  no  trace  of  former  exis- 
tence. I found  it,  though,  perfectly  intact,  and  ready 
to  obey  the  behests  of  my  will  and  serve  me  through  the 
requirements  of  another  day.  And  my  mother  seemed 
to  be  in  her  usual  health  and  willing  for  me  to  do  any- 
thing I thought  I ought  to  do.  She  could  not  close  her 
eyes  to  the  fact  that  our  store  of  supplies  was  nearly  ex- 
hausted, and  that  there  was  only  one  way  to  replenish 
it;  and  she  had  the  wisdom  and  the  Christian  grace  to 
acquiesce  to  the  inevitable  without  a discouraging  word. 
Telitha,  upon  whose  benighted  mind  the  ridiculous  phases 
of  the  previous  day’s  adventures  had  dawned  sometime 
in  the  interim,  laughed  as  soon  as  she  saw  me,  and  in 
well-acted  pantomime  made  me  fully  aware  that  she  en- 
joyed at  this  late  hour  the  ludicrous  scene  that  had  so 


230 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


amused  me.  And  Yankee  evidently  smiled  when  he  saw 
me,  and  greeted  me  with  a joyous  little  whicker  that 
spoke  volumes. 

A good  breakfast  for  women  and  beast  having  been 
disposed  of,  I wended  my  way  in  quest  of  Uncle  Mack. 
He  alone  understood  the  complicated  process  of  harness- 
ing Yankee  in  ropes  to  the  primitive  vehicle  manufac- 
tured by  his  own  ingenious  hands,  and  to  him  I always 
went  when  this  important  task  had  to  be  performed.  On 
this  occasion,  as  upon  others,  it  was  soon  executed.  When 
all  was  ready  and  the  unbidden  tears  dashed  away,  as 
if  out  of  place,  I seized  the  ropes  and  started?  Where? 
Ah,  that  was  the  question.  There  was  only  one  place 
that  offered  hope  of  remuneration  for  the  perilous  un- 
dertaking, and  forty  miles  had  to  be  traversed  before 
reaching  it.  Forty  miles  through  a devastated  country. 
Forty  miles  amid  untold  dangers.  But  in  all  the  walks 
of  life  it  has  been  demonstrated  that  pluck  and  energy, 
and  a firm  reliance  upon  Providence,  are  necessary  to 
surmount  difficulties,  and  of  all  these  essentials  I had  a 
goodly  share,  and  never  doubted  but  that  I would  be 
taken  care  of,  and  my  wants  and  those  of  others  supplied. 
“God  helps  those  who  help  themselves,”  is  an  adage 
which  deserves  to  be  emblazoned  upon  every  tree,  and 
imprinted  upon  every  heart.  That  vain  presumption  that 
folds  the  hands,  and  prays  for  benefits  and  objects  de- 
sired, without  putting  forth  any  effort  to  obtain  them, 
ought  to  be  rebuked  by  all  good  men  and  women  as  a 
machination  of  Satan. 

These  and  similar  reflections  nerved  me  for  the  task 


DURING  THE  T7Ai2. 


231 


before  me,  and  I started  in  earnest.  When  I got  to  the 
“blacksmith  shop,”  I looked  back  and  saw  my  mother 
standing  just  where  I left  her,  following  me  with  her 
eyes.  I looked  back  no  more  lest  I dissolve  in  tears.  As 
I passed  the  few  abodes  that  were  tenanted,  my  mission 
“out”  was  apprehended,  and  I was  besought  in  tearful 
tones  to  bring  back  with  me  all  I could,  by  those  who 
told  me  that  they  and  their  children  were  upon  the  verge 
of  starvation.  I took  all  the  sacks  which  were  handed 
to  me  and  rolled  them  together,  and  by  the  aid  of  a string 
secured  them  to  the  cart,  and  amidst  blessings  and  good 
wishes  pursued  my  devious  way ; for,  be  it  remembered, 
many  obstructions,  such  as  breast-works  and  thorny 
hedge-wood,  presented  formidable  barriers  to  rapid  travel 
for  a considerable  distance  from  Decatur. 

While  leisurely  walking  beside  Yankee,  I was  struck 
with  the  agility  of  his  motion  and  his  improved  figure 
since  we  traveled  over  these  grounds  a few  weeks  before. 
He  had  taken  on  a degree  of  symmetry  that  I never  sup- 
posed attainable  by  the  poor,  emaciated  animal  which  I 
captured  in  the  cane-brake.  His  hair  had  become  soft 
and  silky,  and  in  the  sunlight  displayed  artistic  shades  of 
coloring  from  light  to  deepest  brown ; and  his  long,  black 
tail,  which  hung  limp  and  perpendicular,  now  affected  a 
curve  which  even  Hogarth  might  have  admired,  and  his 
luxuriant  and  glossy  mane  waved  prettily  as  a maiden’s 
tresses.  And  his  face,  perfect  in  every  lineament,  and 
devoid  of  any  indication  of  acerbity,  lighted  by  large, 
liquid,  brown  eyes,  would  have  been  a fit  model — a thing 
of  beauty — for  the  pencil  of  Rosa  Bonheur.  Rubbing 


232 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


my  hand  over  his  silky  coat  and  enlarged  muscles,  I de- 
cided to  enjoy  the  benefit  of  his  increased  strength  and 
gently  ordered  a halt.  Stepping  from  the  ground  to  the 
hub  of  the  wheel,  another  step  landed  me  into  the  cart, 
vehicle,  wagon  or  landau,  whichever  you  see  proper  to 
denominate  it ; I do  not  propose  to  confine  myself  to  any 
one  of  these  terms. 

Yankee  understood  the  movement,  and  doubtless  felt 
complimented.  As  soon  as  I took  my  seat  in  the  chair 
—a  concomitant  part  of  the  equipage— he  started  off  at 
a brisk  gait,  which,  without  a word  of  command,  he  kept 
up  until  we  came  to  the  base  of  a long  hill,  and  then  he 
slackened  his  speed  and  leisurely  walked  to  the  summit. 
I enjoyed  going  over  ground  without  muscular  effort  of 
my  own,  and  determined  to  remain  in  the  cart  until  he 
showed  some  sign  of  fatigue.  I had  only  to  hold  the 
ropes  and  speak  an  encouraging  word,  and  we  traveled  on 
right  merrily.  Ah,  no ! That  was  a misnomer.  Callous 
indeed  would  have  been  the  heart  who  could  have  gone 
merrily  over  that  devastated  and  impoverished  land. 
Sherman,  with  his  destructive  host,  had  been  there,  and 
nothing  remained  within  the  conquered  boundary  upon 
which  “Sheridan’s  Crow”  could  have  subsisted.  Noth- 
ing was  left  but  standing  chimneys,  and  an  occasional 
house,  to  which  one  would  have  supposed  a battering  ram 
had  been  applied.  I looked  up  and  down,  and  in  every 
direction,  and  saw  nothing  but  destruction,  and  the  gaunt 
and  malignant  figure  of  General  Starvation  striding  over 
our  beautiful  country,  as  if  he  possessed  it.  I shook  my 
head  definantly  at  him  and  went  on,  musing  upon  these 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


233 


things.  I never  questioned  the  wisdom  or  goodness  of 
God  in  permitting  them,  but  I pondered  upon  them,  and 
have  never  yet  reached  their  unfathomable  depths. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  day’s  journey,  I found  myself 
twenty  miles,  or  more,  from  the  starting  point,  and  ten- 
derly cared  for  by  a good  family,  consisting,  in  these 
war  times,  only  of  a mother  and  several  precious  little 
children,  who  were  too  glad  to  have  company  to  consider 
my  appeal  for  a night’s  entertainment  intrusive.  This 
desolate  mother  and  children  thought  they  had  seen  all 
the  horror  of  warfare  illustrated  by  the  premeditated 
cruelty  of  the  Yankee  raiders,  and  could  not  conceive 
how  it  could  have  been  worse.  But  when  I got  through 
with  my  recital  of  injuries,  they  were  willing  that  theirs 
should  remain  untold.  A delicious  supper,  like  manna 
from  Heaven,  was  enjoyed  with  a zest  unknown  to  those 
who  have  never  been  hungry. 

The  light  of  another  day  found  us  all  up  in  that  hos- 
pitable household,  and  an  appetizing  breakfast  fortified 
me  for  another  day’s  labor  in  any  field  in  which  I might 
be  called  to  perform  it.  The  little  boys,  who  had  taken 
Yankee  out  of  the  rope  harness  the  evening  before,  re- 
membered its  intricacies  and  had  no  difficulty  in  getting 
him  back  into  that  complicated  gear.  When  all  was 
ready,  and  grateful  good-byes  had  been  uttered,  I again 
mounted  “the  hub,”  and  got  into  the  vehicle.  After  I 
had  taken  my  seat,  the  good  lady  handed  me  a package, 
which  proved  to  be  a nice  lunch  for  my  dinner.  She  also 
had  a sack  of  potatoes  and  pumpkins  stored  away  in  the 
landau;  and  being  a merciful  woman,  she  thought  of  the 


234 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


horse,  and  gave  some  home-cured  hay  for  his  noonday 
meal. 

All  day  I followed  in  the  track  of  Sherman’s  min- 
ions, and  found  the  destruction  greater  than  when  I had 
passed  in  this  direction  before.  Coming  to  a hill,  the 
long  ascent  of  which  would  be  fatiguing  to  Yankee,  I 
ordered  a halt  and  got  out  of  the  wagon.  Taking  posi- 
tion by  his  side,  we  climbed  the  hill  together,  and  then  we 
went  down  it  together,  and  continued  to  journey  side  by 
side,  I oblivious  to  everything  but  the  destruction,  either 
complete  or  partial,  on  every  side.  At  length  we  came 
to  a lovely  wee  bit  stream  of  water,  exulting  in  its  con- 
sciousness that  no  enemy  could  arrest  it  in  its  course  to 
the  sea,  or  mar  its  beauty  as  it  rippled  onward.  We 
halted,  and  I loosened  the  ropes  so  that  Yankee  might 
partake  of  the  flowing  water  before  eating  his  noonday 
meal.  And  I am  sure  epicure  never  enjoyed  luncheon 
at  Delmonico’s  with  more  zest  than  I did  the  frugal  meal 
prepared  for  me  by  the  friendly  hands  of  that  dear  Con- 
federate woman.  Much  as  I enjoyed  it,  I finished  my 
dinner  some  time  before  Yankee  did  his,  and  employed 
the  interim  in  laving  my  hands  and  face  in  the  pure 
water,  and  contemplating  myself  in  the  perfect  mirror 
formed  by  its  surface.  Not  as  Narcissus  did  I enjoy  this 
pastime,  but  as  one  startled  by  the  revelation.  Traces  of 
care,  sorrow,  apprehension  for  the  future,  were  indelibly 
imprinted  upon  forehead  and  cheek,  and  most  of  all  upon 
that  most  tell-tale  of  all  features,  the  mouth.  I wept  at 
the  change,  and  by  way  of  diversion  turned  from  the  un- 
satisfactory contemplation  of  myself  to  that  of  Yankee. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


235 


This  horse,  instinct  with  intelligence,  appreciated  every 
act  of  kindness,  and  often  expressed  his  gratitude  in  ways 
so  human-like  as  to  startle  and  almost  affright  me.  I 
am  sure  I have  seen  his  face  lighted  by  a smile,  and  radi- 
ant with  gratitude.  And  no  human  being  ever  expressed 
more  forcibly  by  word  or  act  his  sorrow  at  being  unable 
to  do  all  that  was  desired  of  him  in  emergency,  than  did 
this  dumb  brute  when  he  gave  me  that  long,  earnest, 
pathetic  look  (mentioned  in  a former  sketch)  when,  from 
sheer  exhaustion,  he  lay  down  near  the  heap  of  ashes 
where  once  stood  the  beautiful  residence  of  my  friend  of 
honored  memory,  Rev.  Henry  Clark. 

The  more  I contrasted  the  treatment  which  I,  in  com- 
mon with  my  country  women  and  my  country,  had  re- 
ceived at  the  hands  of  the  Yankees  (the  then  exponents 
of  the  sentiment  of  the  United  States  towards  the  South- 
ern people),  and  the  gentle,  friendly  demeanor  of  the 
animal  upon  whom  I had  unthoughtedly  bestowed  a name 
constantly  suggestive  of  an  enemy,  the  more  dissatisfied  I 
became  with  it,  and  I determined  then  and  there  to 
change  it.  Suiting  the  action  to  the  decision,  I gathered 
the  ropes  and  led  the  noble  steed  to  the  brink  of  that 
beautiful  little  brooklet,  and  paused  for  a name.  What 
should  it  be?  “Democrat?”  I believed  him  to  be  a dem- 
ocrat, true  and  tried,  and  yet  I did  not  much  like  the 
name.  Had  not  the  Northern  democrats  allowed  them- 
selves to  be  allured  into  abolition  ranks,  and  made  to  do 
the  fighting,  while  the  abolitionists,  under  another  name, 
devastated  the  country  and  enriched  themselves  by  the 
booty.  “Copperhead?”  I did  not  like  that  much.  It 


236 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


had  a metallic  ring'  that  grated  harshly  upon  my  nerves, 
and  I was  not  then  aware  of  their  great  service  to  the  South 
in  restraining  and  keeping  subordinate  to  humanity,  as 
far  as  in  them  lay,  the  hatred  and  evil  passions  of  the 
abolitionists.  “Johnny  Reb?”  Ah,  I had  touched  the 
keynote  at  last,  and  it  awakened  a responsive  chord  that 
vibrated  throughout  my  very  being.  I had  a secret  be- 
lief, more  than  once  expressed  in  words,  that  my  noble 
equine  was  a captured  rebel  “held  in  durance  vile”  until 
bereft  of  health  and  strength,  then  abandoned  to  die  upon 
the  commons.  “Johnny  Reb!”  I no  longer  hesitated. 
The  name  was  electrical,  and  the  chord  with  which  it 
came  in  contact  was  charged  to  its  utmost  capacity.  With 
the  placid  waters  of  that  ever-flowing  stream,  in  the  name 
of  the  Southern  Confederacy,  I christened  one  of  the 
best  friends  I ever  had  “Johnny  Reb,”  a name  ever  dear 
to  me. 

This  ceremony  having  been  performed  to  my  satis- 
faction and  to  his,  too — judging  by  the  complacent 
glances,  and,  as  I fancied,  by  the  suggestion  of  an  approv- 
ing smile,  which  he  bestowed  upon  me — I mounted  the 
hub,  stepped  into  the  cart,  seated  myself,  and  with  ropes 
in  hand  continued  my  way  to  “The  Circle,”  and  arrived 
there  before  night.  Not  being  tired,  I immediately  struck 
out  among  the  vendors  of  home-made  products — edibles, 
wearing  apparel,  etc. — for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  a 
wagon  load  to  carry  to  Decatur,  not  for  the  ignoble  pur- 
pose of  speculation,  but  to  bestow,  without  money  and 
without  price,  upon  those  who,  like  my  mother  and  my- 
self, preferred  hunger  and  privation  rather  than  give  up 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


237 


our  last  earthly  home  to  the  destroying  fiend  that  stalked 
over  our  land  and  protected  Federal  bayonets. 

Before  the  shades  of  night  came  on  I had  accom- 
plished my  object.  As  a matter  of  history  I will  enum- 
erate some  of  the  articles  purchased,  and  annex  the  prices 
paid  for  them  in  Confederate  money : 

One  bushel  of  meal  $10  oo 

Four  bushels  of  corn  40  oo 

Fifteen  pounds  of  flour  7 50 

Four  pounds  dried  apples  5 00 

One  and  half  pounds  of  butter 6 00 

A bushel  of  sweet  potatoes 6 00 

Three  gallons  of  syrup  15  00 

Shoeing  the  horse  25  00 

For  spending  the  night  at  Mrs.  Born’s,  self  and 

horse  10  00 

Not  knowing  the  capabilities  of  “Johnny  Reb,”  I 
feared  to  add  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  pounds  avoir- 
dupois weight  to  a cart  already  loaded  to  repletion,  and 
the  next  morning  on  starting  took  my  old  familiar  place 
by  his  side.  To  my  slightest  touch  or  word  of  encour- 
agement, he  gave  me  an  appreciative  look  and  obeyed  to 
the  letter  my  wishes  with  regard  to  his  gaits — slow  or 
fast  in  adaptation  to  mine.  In  due  time  we  again  rested 
on  the  banks  of  the  beautiful  little  stream  hallowed  by  the 
memory  of  repudiating  a name,  rendered  by  the  vandal- 
ism of  its  legitimate  owners  too  obnoxious  to  be  borne  by 
a noble  horse,  and  by  the  bestowing  upon  him  of  another 
more  in  keeping  with  his  respect  for  ladies  and  other  fine 
traits  of  character  which  he  possessed.  Neither  he  nor 


238 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


I had  lunch  with  which  to  regale  ourselves;  and  whilst 
he  moved  about  at  will  cropping  little  tufts  of  wild 
growth  and  tender  leaves,  which  instinct  taught  him  were 
good  for  his  species,  I abandoned  myself  to  my  favorite 
pursuit — the  contemplation  of  nature.  Like  Aurora 
Leigh,  I “found  books  among  the  hills  and  vales,  and  run- 
ning brooks,”  and  held  communion  with  their  varied 
forms  and  invisible  influences.  To  me  they  ever  spoke 
of  the  incomprehensible  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God. 
My  heart,  from  my  earliest  recollection,  always  went  out 
in  adoration  to  Him  who  could  make  alike  the  grand  old 
Titans  of  the  forest  and  the  humblest  blade  of  grass;  and 
now  I beheld  them  under  circumstances  peculiarly  calcu- 
lated to  evoke  admiration.  Change  had  come  to  every- 
thing else.  The  lofty  trees  stood  in  silent  grandeur,  un- 
disturbed by  the  enemy’s  step  or  the  harsh  clarion  of 
war — as  if  defiant  of  danger — and  gave  shelter  and  re- 
pose to  the  humblest  of  God’s  creatures  who  sought  their 
protecting  arms.  Beguiled  by  the  loveliness  of  the  wood- 
land scenery,  I often  found  myself  stopping  to  daguerre- 
otype it  upon  the  tablets  of  my  memory,  and  to  feast 
my  senses  upon  the  aromatic  perfume  of  wildwood  au- 
tumn flowers.  “Strong  words  of  counseling  I found  in 
them  and  in  “the  vocal  pines  and  waters,”  and  out  of  these 
books  I learned  the  “ignorance  of  men.” 

“And  how  God  laughs  in  Heaven  when  any  man 

Says,  ‘Here  I’m  learned;  this  I understand; 

In  that  I am  never  caught  at  fault,  or  in  doubt.’  ” 

A word  of  friendly  greeting  and  renewed  thanks  to 
mine  hostess  of  two  nights  before,  and  her  dear  little 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


239 


children,  detained  me  only  a very  short  and  unbegrudged 
space  of  time ; and  during  that  time  I did  not  forget  to 
refer  to  the  potatoes  and  the  pumpkin  so  kindly  given  to 
me  by  them  on  my  down  trip,  and  which  I could  have 
left  in  their  care  until  my  return,  had  I thought  of  it. 

Night  again  came  on,  and  this  time  found  me  picking 
my  way  as  best  I could  over  the  rocks  shadowed  by  Stone 
Mountain.  On  I plodded  through  the  darkness,  guided 
rather  by  the  unerring  step  of  Johnny  Reb  than  any 
knowledge  I had  of  the  way.  At  length  the  poor  faithful 
animal  and  myself  were  rewarded  for  perseverance  by 
seeing  glimmering  lights  of  the  mountain  village.  We 
struck  a bee  line  for  the  nearest  one,  and  were  soon  di- 
rected to  “a  boarding  house.”  I was  too  glad  to  get  into 
it  then,  to  descant  upon  its  demerits  now.  I assured  the 
landlady  that  I needed  no  supper  myself,  and  would  pay 
her  what  she  would  charge  for  both  if  she  would  see  that 
the  horse  was  well  fed.  I think  she  did  so.  My  valuable 
freight  could  not  remain  in  the  cart  all  night,  and  there 
was  no  one  to  bring  it  in.  In  vain  did  she  assure  me 
that  I would  find  it  all  right  if  I left  it  there.  I got  into 
the  cart  and  lifted  the  sacks  and  other  things  out  of  it 
myself,  and,  by  the  help  of  the  aforesaid  person,  got 
everything  into  the  house.  I fain  would  have  lain  down 
by  these  treasures,  for  they  had  increased  in  value  beyond 
computation  since  leaving  Social  Circle,  and  would  have 
done  so  but  for  repeated  assurance  of  their  safety. 

An  early  start  next  morning  gave  me  the  privilege  of 
going  over  the  ground  familiar  to  my  youth  in  the  love- 
liest part  of  the  day,  and  when  the  sun  looked  at  me 


240 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


over  the  mountain’s  crest,  I felt  as  if  I was  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a veritable  king,  and  wanted  to  take  my  bonnet 
off  and  make  obeisance  to  him.  His  beneficent  rays  fell 
alike  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust,  and  lighted  the  path- 
way of  the  destroyer  as  brightly  as  that  of  the  benefactor. 
Amid  destruction,  wanton  and  complete,  and  over  which 
angels  might  weep,  I stepped  the  distance  off  between 
Stone  Mountain  and  Judge  Bryce’s;  not  a living  thing 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  or  a sound  of  any  kind  greet- 
ing me — the  desolation  of  war  reigned  supreme.  I again 
stopped  at  Judge  Bryce’s,  and  implored  his  protection 
to  Decatur,  but,  as  on  the  former  occasion,  he  was  afraid 
to  leave  his  wife  to  the  tender  mercy  (?)  of  the  enemy. 
He  told  me  he  feared  I would  not  reach  home  with  my 
cart  of  edibles,  as  “Yankee  raiders  had  been  coming  out 
from  Atlanta  every  day  lately,”  and  that  the  set  that  was 
now  coming  was  more  vindictive  than  any  that  had  pre- 
ceded it.  Good,  dear  Mrs.  Bryce,  trusting  in  the  Lord 
for  future  supplies,  took  a little  from  her  scanty  store  of 
provisions  and  added  it  to  mine  for  her  friend,  my  mother. 

With  many  forebodings  of  evil,  I took  up  the  line  of 
march  to  Decatur.  I looked  almost  with  regret  upon  my 
pretty  horse.  Had  he  remained  the  poor  ugly  animal 
that  was  lassoed  in  the  cane-brake,  I would  have  had  but 
little  fear  of  losing  him,  but  under  my  fostering  care, 
having  become  pretty,  plump  and  sprightly,  I had  but  lit- 
tle hope  of  keeping  him.  Being  absorbed  by  these  mourn- 
ful reflections  and  not  having  the  ever- watchful  Telitha 
with  me  to  announce  danger  from  afar,  I was  brought 
to  a full  realization  of  its  proxmity  by  what  appeared  to 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


241 


be  almost  an  army  of  blue-coats,  dashing  up  on  spirited 
horses,  and  for  the  purpose  of  humiliating  me,  hurrahing 
“for  Jefferson  Davis  and  the  Southern  Confederacy.”  As 
a flag  of  truce,  I frantically  waved  my  bonnet,  which  act 
was  misapprehended  and  taken  as  a signal  of  approval 
of  their  “hurrah  for  Jefferson  Davis  and  the  Southern 
Confederacy,”  which  was  resounding  without  intermis- 
sion. 

Seeing  several  very  quiet,  dignified  looking  gentle- 
men, who,  although  apart  from  the  others,  seemed  to  be 
exercising  a restraining  influence,  I approached  them  and 
told  them  how  I had  gone  out  from  Decatur  unprotected 
and  all  alone  to  get  provisions  to  keep  starvation  from 
among  our  defenseless  women  and  children,  and  that  I 
had  to  go  all  the  way  to  Social  Circle  before  I could  get 
anything,  and  that  I had  walked  back  in  order  to  save 
the  horse  as  much  as  possible.  These  men,  however, 
although  seemingly  interested,  questioned  and  cross-ques- 
tioned me  until  I had  but  little  hope  of  their  protection. 

One  of  them  said,  “I  see  you  have  one  of  our  horses. 
How  did  you  come  by  him  ?”  And  then  the  story  of  how 
I came  by  him  was  recapitulated  without  exaggeration  or 
diminution.  This  narrative  elicited  renewed  hurrahs  for 
Jefferson  Davis  and  the  Southern  Confederacy.  A few 
minutes  private  conversation  between  these  gentlemen  en- 
sued, and  all  of  them  approached  me,  and  the  spokesman 
said,  “Two  of  us  will  escort  you  to  Decatur,  and  see  that 
no  harm  befalls  you.”  It  seemed,  then,  that  no  greater 
boon  could  have  been  offered  under  the  canopy  of  Heaven, 
and  I am  sure  no  woman  could  have  experienced  more 
gratitude  or  been  more  profuse  in  its  expression. 


24  2 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


The  sight  of  my  nervous,  gray-haired  mother,  and 
her  pretty  mother  ways,  touched  another  tender  chord  in 
the  hearts  of  these  gentlemen,  and  if  constraint  existed  it 
was  dispelled,  and  they  became  genial  and  very  like 
friends  before  they  left.  They  even  promised  to  send  us 
some  oats  for  noble  Johnny  Reb,  who  displayed  the  great- 
est equanimity  all  through  these  trying  scenes. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


243 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

NEWS  FROM  THE  ABSENT  BROTHER. 

He  marches  into  Tennessee  with  Hood — Extracts  from  his 
letters  written  on  the  way — Two  ears  of  parched  corn — The 
night  burial  of  a soldier. 

After  the  majority  of  these  sketches  were  written,  I 
was  permitted  by  my  sister  to  take  a few  extracts  from 
the  cherished  letters  of  our  brother,  which  she  numbered 
and  carefully  laid  away  as  her  most  precious  treasure.  To 
these  we  are  indebted  for  all  that  we  know  of  his  history 
during  .those  trying  days  and  weeks  of  which  I have  just 
been  writing.  Where  was  he,  and  how  did  he  fare?  Few 
and  far  between  were  the  letters  now,  in  these  dark  days 
of  the  war.  The  soldiers  themselves  had  but  little  op- 
portunity to  write,  and  the  mail  facilities  were  poor.  But 
I feel  sure  that  to  the  survivors  of  the  “Lost  Cause,” 
these  meagre  scraps  concerning  that  brave  but  disastrous 
march  into  Tennessee  will  be  read  with  melancholy  in- 
terest : 

“On  the  Line  of  Alabama  and  Georgia, 

Near  Alpine,  Ga.,  8 o’clock  at  night,  Oct.  17,  1874. 

“My  Dear  Sister — As  there  is  a probability  of  the 
mail  courier  leaving  here  early  in  the  morning,  I hastily 
scratch  you  a few  lines  that  you  may  know  that  under 


244 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


the  blessings  of  a kind  Providence  I am  yet  alive,  and, 
though  somewhat  wearied,  enjoying  good  health.  Yours 
of  28th  of  September  has  been  received,  but  under  cir- 
cumstances of  hard  marches,  etc.,  there  has  been  but  one 
opportunity  of  writing  to  you  since  leaving  Palmetto,  and 
then  had  just  finished  one  to  Texas,  and  was  fixing  to 
write  to  you,  when  the  order  came  to  ‘fall  in.’ 

“Well,  leaving  camps  near  Palmetto  on  the  29th  of 
September,  we  crossed  the  Chattahoochee  below,  marched 
up  to  Powder  Springs,  threatened  Marietta,  and  at  the 
same  time  threw  Stewart’s  corps  around  above  Big 
Shanty  to  cut  the  railroad,  which  was  torn  up  for  about 
thirteen  miles,  French’s  Division  attacking  Allatoona, 
where  he  sustained  some  loss,  having  works  to  charge. 
Ector’s  Texas  Brigade,  and  some  Missourians,  carried 

their  part  of  the  works,  but  A ’s  Brigade  failed  to 

do  their  part,  hence  the  advantage  gained  was  lost.  By 
this  time  the  enemy  were  concentrating  at  Marietta,  and 
General  Hood’s  object  being  accomplished,  he  then 
marched  rapidly  towards  Rome,  flanking  the  place,  and 
making  a heavy  demonstration  as  if  he  intended  crossing 
the  river  and  attacking  the  place.  The  enemy  then  com- 
menced a concentration  at  Kingston  and  Rome.  We  then 
moved  around  Rome  and  marched  rapidly  up  the  Oos- 
tanaula,  and,  on  the  evening  of  the  nth  inst.,  sent  a divis- 
ion of  infantry  with  some  cavalry  across  the  river,  and 
captured  Calhoun  with  some  stores.  Moved  on  the  next 
morning  by  a forced  march,  flanking  Resaca,  and  strik- 
ing the  railroad  immediately  above,  tearing  it  up  to  Til- 
ton where  there  were  about  three  hundred  Yankees  in  a 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


246 


block-house.  A surrender  was  demanded.  A reply  was 
returned : ‘If  you  want  us  come  and  take  us.’  Our  artil- 
lery was  soon  in  position  and  a few  shots  soon  made  them 
show  the  ‘white  rag.’  We  tore  up  the  road  that  night, 
and  the  next  morning  by  nine  o’clock,  to  Tunnel  Hill, 
burning  every  cross-tie  and  twisting  the  bars.  Dalton 
surrendered  without  a fight,  with  a full  garrison  of  ne- 
groes and  some  white  Yankees.  The  block-house  above, 
at  a bridge,  refused  to  surrender,  and  we  had  to  bring  the 
artillery  into  requisition  again,  which  made  them  suc- 
cumb. They  all  seemed  to  be  taken  by  surprise  and  were 
hard  to  convince  that  it  was  a cavalry  raid.  They  evac- 
uated Tunnel  Hill.  Thus  after  five  months  of  fighting 
and  running,  the  Army  of  Tennessee  re-occupied  Dalton. 
Sherman  has  been  taken  by  surprise.  He  never  dreamed 
of  such  a move.  General  Hood’s  plans  all  being  car- 
ried out,  so  far  as  the  State  road  was  concerned,  we 
marched  across  the  mountains  to  LaFayette,  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  which  we  camped  last  night,  and  have  marched 
twenty-three  miles  to-day.  To-morrow  we  cross  the 
Lookout  Mountain,  and  will,  I suppose,  make  directly  for 
the  Tennessee  river,  though  of  this  I’m  not  certain.  Hood 
has  shown  himself  a general  in  strategy,  and  has  secured 
the  confidence  of  the  troops.  Wherever  we  go,  may  God’s 
blessing  attend  us.  Pray  for  me.  In  haste. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

Tom  Stokes. 

“P.  S. — Cherokee  Co.,  Ala.,  Oct.  18,  1864. 

‘‘The  courier  not  leaving  this  morning,  I have  a little 
more  time  left.  We  did  not  travel  so  far  to-day  as  I 


246 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


heard  we  would,  having  come  only  ten  miles,  and  have 
stopped  to  rest  the  balance  of  the  evening.  I find  you 
dislike  to  have  your  communications  cut  off,  so  I see  you 
are  below  Madison.  Would  to  Heaven  that,  in  one  sense 
of  the  word  my  communication  was  cut  off  forever ; yea, 
that  every  channel  leading  me  in  contact  with  the  world, 
in  any  other  character  than  as  a minister  of  ‘the  meek  and 
lowly  Savior,’  was  to  me  forever  blocked  up.  I am 
tired  of  confusion  and  disorder — tired  of  living  a life 
of  continual  excitement  * * * You  spoke  of  passing 

through  a dark  cloud.  ‘There  is  nothing  true  but  Hea- 
ven,’ and  it  is  to  that  rest  for  the  weary,  alone,  to  which 
we  are  to  look  for  perfect  enjoyment.  We  are  to  walk 
by  faith,  and  though  the  clouds  of  trouble  thicken,  yet 
we  should  know  that  if  we  do  our  duty  we  shall  see  and 
feel  the  genial  sunshine  of  a happier  time.  Yes,  my  sis- 
ter, though  we  knew  our  lives  should  be  lengthened  one 
hundred  years,  and  every  day  should  be  full  of  trouble ; 
yet  if  we  have  a hope  of  Heaven,  that  hope  should  buoy 
up  the  soul  to  be  cheerful,  even  under  earth’s  saddest 
calamities. 

“I  think  we  will  cross  the  Tennessee  river  and  make 
for  Tennessee,  where  it  seems  to  be  understood  that  we 
will  have  large  accessions  to  our  army,  both  there  and 
from  Kentucky  * * * ” 

The  next  letter  is  enclosed  in  an  envelope  which  came 
through  no  postoffice,  as  it  was  furnished  by  my  sister, 
and  upon  it  she  wrote : “This  letter  was  sent  to  me  on 
the  27th  of  November,  by  some  one  who  picked  it  up 
upon  the  street  in  Madison.  The  postoffice  had  been  rifled 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


247 


by  the  Federals  who  (under  command  of  Slocum) 
passed  through  Madison,  November  18th  and  19th. 
Though  found  without  an  envelope,  and  much  stained, 
it  has  reached  me,  because  signed  with  his  full  name.” 

This  letter  is  dated  “Near  Decatur,  Ala.,  October  28th, 
1864.”  We  give  a few  items: 

“We  invested  this  place  yesterday,  and  there  has  been 
some  skirmishing  and  artillery  firing  until  an  hour  ago, 
when  it  seems  to  have  measurably  ceased.  We  are  in 
line  of  battle  southwest  of  Decatur,  about  one  and  a 
quarter  miles.  I went  out  reconnoitering  this  morning 
and  saw  the  enemy’s  position.  They  have  a large  fort 
immediately  in  the  town,  with  the  ‘stars  and  stripes’  wav- 
ing above.  I hear  occasional  distant  artillery  firing  which 
I suppose  is  Forrest,  near  Huntsville.  * * * We  were 
several  days  crossing  Sand  Mountain.  Have  had  de- 
lightful weather  until  a day  or  two  ago  it  rained,  making 
the  roads  very  muddy,  in  consequence  of  which  we  have 
been  on  small  rations,  the  supply  trains  failing  to  get  up. 
We  had  only  half  rations  yesterday,  and  have  had  none 
to-day  (now  nearly  three  o’clock),  but  will  get  some  to- 
night. We  try  to  be  cheerful.  * * * No  letter  from 
Texas  yet.  No  one  of  our  company  has  had  any  intelli- 
gence from  Johnson  county  since  last  May.  I can’t  see 
what’s  the  matter.  I have  been  absent  nearly  one  year 
and  have  received  but  one  letter.”  (Of  course  the  dear 
loved  ones  in  Texas  wrote  to  their  soldier  braves  on  this 
side  the  Mississippi  river ; but  such  are  the  misfortunes  of 
war  that  these  missives  were  long  delayed  in  their  pas- 
sage.) 


248  LIFE  IN  DIXIE 

r 

“Saturday,  October  29th. — The  condition  of  affairs 
this  morning  at  sunrise  remains,  so  far  as  I know,  un- 
changed. * * * Yesterday  evening  we  drew  two  ears 
of  corn  for  a day’s  ration ; so  parched  corn  was  all  we  had 
yesterday ; but  we  will  get  plenty  to-day.” 

And  now  we  come  to  the  last  of  the  letters  ever  re- 
ceived. It  is  probable  it  was  among  the  last  he  ever 
wrote.  It  is  dated  “Tuscumbia,  Ala.,  Nov.  10,  1864. — 
. . . We  arrived  at  this  place  the  31st  of  October, 

and  have  been  here  since,  though  what  we  are  waiting 
for  I can’t  tell.  The  pontoons  are  across  the  river,  and 
one  corps  on  the  other  side  at  Florence.  We  have  had 
orders  to  be  ready  to  move  several  times,  but  were  coun- 
termanded. We  were  to  have  moved  to-day,  and  even 
our  wagons  started  off,  but  for  some  cause  or  other  we 
have  not  gone.  The  river  is  rising  very  rapidly,  which 
may  endanger  the  pontoons. 

“November  12th. — I thought  to  send  this  off  yester- 
day morning,  but  on  account  of  the  rain  a few  days  ago, 
the  mail  carrier  was  delayed  until  last  night,  which 
brought  your  dear  letter  of  date  October  31st.  It  was 
handed  me  on  my  return  from  the  graveyard,  where  I had 
been  to  perform  the  funeral  ceremony  of  a member  of  the 
6th  Texas,  who  was  killed  yesterday  morning  by  the  fall 
of  a tree.  He  has  been  in  every  battle  in  which  this  bri- 
gade was  ever  engaged ; an  interesting  young  man,  only 
nineteen  years  of  age. 

“The  scene  at  the  graveyard  was  a solemn  one,  being 
some  time  in  the  night  before  we  arrived.  The  cold,  pale 
moon  shone  down  upon  us,  and  the  deep  stillness  which 


DURING  THE  WAR.  249 

* 

pervaded  the  whole  scene,  with  the  rough,  uncouth, 
though  tender-hearted  soldiers  with  uncovered  heads, 
forming  a large  circle  around  the  grave,  made  it,  indeed, 
a scene  solemnly  impressive.  The  print  of  my  Bible  be- 
ing small,  I could  not  read,  but  recited  from  memory  a 
few  passages  of  Scripture  suitable  to  the  occasion,  the  one 
upon  which  I dwelt  chiefly  being  a declaration  of  Paul 
to  the  Corinthians,  ‘For  we  must  all  appear  before  the 
judgment  seat  of  Christ.’  I then  spoke  of  the  certainty  of 
that  change  from  life  to  death ; that  with  the  soldier  even, 
death  is  not  confined  to  the  battlefield ; spoke  of  our  com- 
rade, who  but  in  the  morning  bade  as  fair  for  long  life  as 
any  of  us,  but  within  the  space  of  a few  short  hours  was 
lying  in  the  cold  embrace  of  death ; of  another  of  our 
brigade  who  was  instantly  killed  a short  time  since  by  a 
stroke  of  lightning;  closed  with  an  exhortation  to  all  to 
live  nearer  to  God,  and  be  prepared  at  all  times  to  meet 
their  God  in  peace.  Oh,  how  sad!  Far  away  from  his 
home  to  be  buried  in  a land  of  strangers.  How  the 
hearts  of  his  father,  mother  and  sisters  must  bleed  when 
they  receive  the  sad  tidings. 

“I  expect  we  will  leave  here  for  Middle  Tennessee 
next  Monday,  as  the  river  will  be  falling  by  that  time. 
There  is  much  talk  of  this  brigade  being  sent  home  after 
this  campaign.  Major  Rankin  has  been  exchanged,  and 
is  with  us.  I gave  Lieutenant  Collins’  overcoat  to  his 
company  to  take  care  of  for  him. 

“Am  so  glad  to  hear  from  ma  and  sister.  We  get  no 
letters  from  Texas;  but  are  continually  sending  some 
over,  as  all  the  disabled  of  the  last  campaign  are  being 


250 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


retired  and  sent  across.  Poor  Uncle  James ! His  Jo- 
seph is  gone.  . . . Write  to  me  often. 

Affectionately, 

Your  Brother." 

Ah,  could  the  history  of  these  brave  men  be  written, 
what  a record  it  would  be  of  endurance,  of  daring,  of 
heroism,  of  sacrifice ! And  the  heart-breaking  pathos  of 
the  last  chapters  of  their  experience,  ere  the  furling  of 
the  flag  they  followed!  Pat  Cleburne  and  his  fallen 
braves — 

“On  fame’s  eternal  camping  ground, 

Their  silent  tents  are  spread, 

And  glory  marks  with  solemn  round 
The  uivouac  of  the  dead.” 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


261 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE  WAR. 

Related  to  the  writer  by  Hon.  Roger  Q.  Mills,  of  Texas. 

The  night  was  black  as  Erebus.  Not  a scintillant  of 
light  from  moon  or  star  penetrated  the  dense  forest,  and 
no  eye  save  that  of  God  discerned  the  danger  of  the  situa- 
tion. Hill  and  dale,  mountain  and  precipice,  creek  and 
surging  stream,  presented  barriers  that  none  but  men  in- 
ured to  hardship,  and  unknown  to  fear,  would  have  at- 
tempted to  surmount. 

Obedient  to  the  command  of  the  superior  officer,  the 
remnant  of  that  magnificent  and  intrepid  army,  once 
guided  by  the  unerring  wisdom  of  Joseph  E.  Johnston, 
plodded  their  way  uncomplainingly  over  these  trying 
difficulties.  The  Lord  must  have  been  amazed  at  their 
temerity,  and  shook  the  very  earth  in  rebuke,  and  ever 
and  anon  by  the  lightning’s  flash  revealed  glimpses  of  the 
peril  to  which  they  were  exposed ; and  yet  in  unbroken 
lines  they  groped  their  way,  not  knowing  whither.  At 
length  bewildered,  and  made  aware  of  impending  danger, 
the  general  in  command  ordered  a halt.  The  martial 
tread  ceased,  and  all  was  still  as  death.  In  the  midst  of 
this  stillness  a voice,  sweet  as  that  of  a woman,  was  heard 
repeating  that  grand  old  hymn,  which  has  given  comfort 
to  many  weary  ones  treading  the  wine  press : 


252 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


“How  firm  a foundation,  ye  saints  of  the  Lord, 

Is  laid  for  your  faith  in  His  excellent  Word! 

What  more  can  He  say  than  to  you  He  hath  said, 

You  who  unto  Jesus  for  refuge  have  fled. 

“In  every  condition,  in  sickness,  in  health, 

In  poverty’s  vale,  or  abounding  in  wealth, 

At  home  and  abroad,  on  the  land,  on  the  sea, 

As  thy  days  may  demand  shall  thy  strength  ever  be. 

“Fear  not,  I am  with  thee,  0!  be  not  dismayed, 

I,  I am  thy  God,  and  will  still  give  thee  aid; 

I’ll  strengthen  thee,  help  thee  and  cause  thee  to  6tand, 
Upheld  by  My  righteous,  omnipotent  hand. 

“When  through  the  deep  waters  I call  thee  to  go, 

The  rivers  of  woe  shall  not  thee  overflow; 

For  I will  be  with  thee,  thy  troubles  to  bless, 

And  sanctify  to  thee  thy  deepest  distress. 

“When  through  fiery  trials  thy  pathway  shall  lie, 

My  grace  all  sufiicient  shall  be  thy  supply; 

The  flame  shall  not  hurt  thee;  I only  design 
Thy  dross  to  consume,  and  thy  gold  to  refine. 

“E’en  down  to  old  age,  all  My  people  shall  prove 
My  sovereign,  eternal,  unchangeable  love; 

And  when  hoary  hairs  shall  their  temples  adorn, 

Like  lambs  they  shall  still  in  My  bosom  be  borne. 

“The  soul  that  on  Jesus  hath  leaned  for  repose, 

I will  not,  I will  not  desert  to  his  foes; 

That  soul,  though  all  hell  should  endeavor  to  shake, 

I’ll  never,  no  never,  no  never,  forsake.” 

General  Mills  said  that  during  the  rendition  of  this 
beautiful  hymn,  not  even  the  breaking  of  a twig,  or  the 
changing  of  a footstep  broke  the  silence  of  the  midnight 
tranquility.  The  rain  drops  ceased  to  fall ; the  electricity 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


253 


darted  harmlessly  through  the  tree  tops ; and  the  mutter- 
ing of  the  thunder  lulled. 

After  a most  impressive  silence  of  several  minutes,  the 
same  voice  which  had  rendered  the  hymn  so  effectively, 
repeated  from  memory  an  appropriate  passage  of  Scrip- 
ture and  proceeded  to  expatiate  upon  it.  He  had  not 
uttered  a dozen  words  before  another  flash  of  lightning  re- 
vealed the  upturned  heads  and  listening  attitudes  of  the 
men  composing  that  weird  congregation,  and  each  one  of 
them  knew  as  if  by  instinct  that  he  was  going  to  hear 
something  that  would  help  him  on  his  journey  to  the 
Land  of  Beulah.  Strong  in  the  faith,  he  carried  many  of 
the  truths  and  promises  of  the  Holy  Word  within  his 
mind,  and  now,  as  many  times  before,  he  opened  them  by 
the  magic  key  of  memory  and  unfolded  to  view  their  un- 
searchable riches.  He  begged  his  fellow-men  and  com- 
rades in  arms  to  accept  them  without  money  and  without 
price — to  accept  them  that  they  might  wear  kingly  robes 
and  royal  diadems,  and  be  with  Jesus  in  His  Father's 
regal  mansions  throughout  the  grand  eternities.  And  as 
he  told  the  old,  old  story  of  divine  love,  it  assumed  a 
contemporaneous  interest  and  seemed  a living,  present 
reality.  Every  man  who  heard  it  felt  the  living  force  and 
energizing  influence  of  the  theme.  And  thus  by  earnest, 
aggressive  appeals,  he  exerted  a wonderful  power  for 
good  over  the  minds  of  his  hearers ; and  those  men,  even 
now  with  phantom  hands  pointing  gaunt  fingers  at  them, 
by  their  deep  interest  testified  to  the  warm,  suffusing  pur- 
pose which  made  itself  felt  in  every  word  that  he  uttered, 
as  he  told  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God  and  the  ever-present 


254 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


sympathy  of  a benignant  and  infinite  Parent,  who  de- 
lighted not  in  the  death  of  sinners,  but  rather  that  all 
should  come  to  Him  and  have  eternal  life.  General  Mills 
added  that,  as  the  fine  resonant  voice  of  the  speaker  pene- 
trated the  dense  forest  and  found  its  way  to  his  hearers 
in  distinct  enunciation  of  well-chosen  words,  the  deep- 
toned  thunder  emphasized  the  impressive  points,  and 
made  it  a scene  which  for  grandeur  and  sublimity  has 
never  been  surpassed,  while  the  vivid  flashes  of  lightning 
revealed  again  and  again  the  earnest  face  and  solemn 
mien  of  my  brother,  Lieutenant  Thomas  J.  Stokes,  of  the 
Tenth  Texas  Infantry  of  Cleburne’s  Division. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


255 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Picking  up  minie  balls  around  Atlanta — Exchanging  them  for 

bread. 

After  mingling  renewed  vows  of  allegiance  to  our 
cause,  and  expressions  of  a willing  submission  to  the  con- 
sequences of  defeat — privations  and  evil  dire,  if  need  be 
• — with  my  morning  orison ; yet  I could  not  be  oblivious  to 
the  fact  that  I was  hungry,  very  hungry.  And  there  was 
another,  whose  footsteps  were  becoming  more  and  more 
feeble  day  by  day,  and  whose  voice,  when  heard  at  all, 
was  full  of  the  pathos  of  despair,  who  needed  nourish- 
ment that  could  not  be  obtained,  and  consolation,  which 
it  seemed  a mockery  to  offer. 

In  vain  did  I look  round  for  relief.  There  was  noth- 
ing left  in  the  country  to  eat.  Yea,  a crow  flying  over  it 
would  have  failed  to  discover  a morsel  with  which  to  ap- 
pease its  hunger ; for  a Sheridan  by  another  name  had 
been  there  with  his  minions  of  destruction,  and  had  ruth- 
lessly destroyed  every  vestige  of  food  and  every  means 
of  support.  Every  larder  was  empty,  and  those  with 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  dollars  were  as  poor 
as  the  poorest,  and  as  hungry  too.  Packing  trunks,  in 
every  house  to  which  refugees  had  returned,  contained 
large  amounts  of  Confederate  money.  We  had  invested 
all  we  possessed  except  our  home  and  land  and  negroes, 


256 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


in  Confederate  bonds,  and  these  were  now  inefficient  for 
purchasing  purposes.  Gold  and  silver  had  we  none.  A 
more  favored  few  had  a little  of  those  desirable  medi- 
ums of  purchase,  and  sent  a great  distance  for  supplies; 
but  they  offered  no  relief  to  those  who  had  stayed  at 
home  and  borne  the  brunt  of  battle,  and  saved  their  prop- 
erty from  the  destroyers’  torch. 

What  was  I to  do?  Sit  down  and  wait  for  the  in- 
evitable starvation?  No;  I was  not  made  of  such  stuff. 
I had  heard  that  there  had  been  a provision  store  opened 
in  Atlanta  for  the  purpose  of  bartering  provisions  for 
munitions  of  war — anything  that  could  be  utilized  in  war- 
fare. Minie  balls  were  particularly  desirable.  I there- 
fore took  Telitha  by  the  apron,  and  had  a little  talk  with 
her,  and  when  I was  through  she  understood  that  some- 
thing was  up  that  would  bring  relief  to  certain  organs 
that  had  become  quite  troublesome  in  their  demands,  and 
she  was  anxious  to  take  part  in  the  performance,  whatever 
that  might  be.  I went  also  to  my  mother,  and  imparted 
to  her  my  plans  of  operation,  and  she  took  that  pathetic 
little  backward  step  peculiar  to  herself  on  occasions  which 
tried  her  soul,  and  with  quivering  lips  she  assented  in  ap- 
proving, though  almost  inaudible  words. 

With  a basket  in  either  hand,  and  accompanied  by 
Telitha,  who  carried  one  that  would  hold  about  a peck, 
and  two  old  dull  case-knives,  I started  to  the  battle-fields 
around  Atlanta  to  pick  up  the  former  missiles  of  death 
to  exchange  for  food  to  keep  us  from  starving. 

It  was  a cold  day.  The  wind  was  very  sharp,  and 
over  the  ground,  denuded  of  forest  trees  and  under- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


257 


growth,  the  wind  was  blowing  a miniature  gale.  Our 
wraps  were  inadequate,  and  how  chilled  we  became  in 
that  rude  November  blast ! Mark  you,  it  was  the  30th  of 
November,  1864.  But  the  colder  we  were,  the  faster  we 
walked,  and  in  an  incredibly  short  time  we  were  upon  the 
battle-field  searching  for  lead. 

I made  it  a point  to  keep  very  near  the  road  in  the 
direction  of  Atlanta,  and  soon  found  myself  on  the  very 
spot  where  the  Confederate  magazine  stood,  the  blowing 
up  of  which,  by  Confederate  orders,  shook  the  very  earth, 
and  was  distinctly  heard  thirty-five  or  forty  miles  distant. 
An  exclamation  of  glad  surprise  from  Telitha  carried  me 
to  her.  She  had  found  a bonanza,  and  was  rapidly  fill- 
ing her  basket  with  that  which  was  more  valuable  to  us 
than  gold.  In  a marshy  place,  encrusted  with  ice,  innu- 
merable bullets,  minie  balls,  and  pieces  of  lead  seemed  to 
have  been  left  by  the  irony  of  fate  to  supply  sustenance 
to  hungry  ones,  and  employment  to  the  poor,  as  all  the 
winter  those  without  money  to  send  to  more  favored  and 
distant  points  found  sure  returns  from  this  lead  mine.  It 
was  so  cold ! our  feet  were  almost  frozen,  and  our  hands 
had  commenced  to  bleed,  and  handling  cold,  rough  lead 
cramped  them  so  badly  that  I feared  we  would  have  to 
desist  from  our  work  before  filling  the  baskets. 

Lead!  Blood!  Tears!  O how  suggestive!  Lead, 
blood  and  tears,  mingled  and  commingled.  In  vain  did 
I try  to  dash  the  tears  away.  They  would  assert  them- 
selves and  fall  upon  lead  stained  with  blood.  “God  of 
mercy,  if  this  be  Thy  holy  will,  give  me  fortitude  to  bear 
it  uncomplainingly,”  was  the  heart-felt  invocation  that 


258 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


went  up  to  the  throne  of  grace  from  over  lead,  blood  and 
tears  that  fearful  day.  For  relief,  tears  did  not  suffice. 
I wanted  to  cry  aloud ; nature  would  not  be  satisfied  with 
less,  and  I cried  like  a baby,  long  and  loud.  Telitha 
caught  the  spirit  of  grief  and  cried  too.  This  ebullition 
of  feelings  on  her  part  brought  me  to  a realization  of  my 
duty  to  her,  as  well  as  to  my  poor  patient  mother  to  whom 
the  day  must  seem  very  long,  and  I tried  to  stifle  my  sobs 
and  lamentations.  I wondered  if  she  had  the  forebod- 
ings of  coming  bereavement  that  were  lacerating  my  own 
heart.  I did  not  doubt  but  that  she  had,  and  I cried  in 
sympathy  for  her. 

At  length  our  baskets  were  filled,  and  we  took  up  our 
line  of  march  to  the  desolated  city.  There  were  no  laby- 
rinths to  tread,  no  streets  to  follow,  and  an  occasional 
question  secured  information  that  enabled  us  to  find  the 
“commissary”  without  delay.  Telitha  was  very  ambi- 
tious that  I should  appear  a lady,  and  wanted  me  to  de- 
posit my  load  of  lead  behind  some  place  of  concealment, 
while  we  went  on  to  deliver  hers  and  then  let  her  go 
back  for  mine.  But  I was  too  much  a Confederate  sol- 
dier for  that,  and  walked  bravely  in  with  my  heavy, 
precious  load. 

A courteous  gentleman  in  a faded  grey  uniform,  evi- 
dently discharged  because  of  wounds  received  in  battle, 
approached  and  asked  what  he  could  do  for  me.  “I  have 
heard  that  you  give  provisions  for  lead,”  I replied,  “and 
I have  brought  some  to  exchange.”  What  seemed  an 
interminable  silence  ensued,  and  I felt  without  seeing  that 
I was  undergoing  a sympathetic  scrutiny,  and  that  I was 
recognized  as  a lady  “to  the  manor  born.” 


DURING  THE  V VAR. 


239 


“What  would  you  like  in  exchange,”  he  asked.  “If 
you  have  sugar,  and  coffee,  and  meal,  a little  of  each  if 
you  please,”  I timidly  said.  “I  left  nothing  to  eat  at 
home.”  The  baskets  of  lead  were  removed  to  the  rear 
and  weighed,  and  in  due  time  returned  to  me  filled  to  the 
brim  with  sugar,  coffee,  flour,  meal,  lard,  and  the  nicest 
meat  I had  seen  in  a long  time. 

“Oh,  sir,”  I said,  “I  did  not  expect  so  much.” 

“You  have  not  yet  received  what  is  due  you,”  this 
good  man  replied,  and  handed  me  a certificate  which  he 
assured  me  would  secure  as  much  more  on  presentation. 

Joy  had  gone  out  of  my  life,  and  I felt  no  thrill  of 
that  kind ; but  I can  never  describe  the  satisfaction  I 
experienced  as  I lifted  two  of  those  baskets,  and  saw 
Telitha  grasp  the  other  one,  and  turned  my  face  home- 
ward. 


260 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  Decatur  women’s  struggle  for  bread — Sweet  singing  in 
hard  places — Pleasant  visitors — I make  a trip  to  Alabama — 
The  news  of  my  brother’s  death. 

The  tug  of  war  was  upon  us  from  the  mountains  to 
the  sea-board,  and  ingenious  was  the  woman  who  de- 
vised means  to  keep  the  wolf,  hungry  and  ravenous,  from 
the  door.  The  depreciation  of  our  currency,  and  its  con- 
stant diminution  in  value,  had  rendered  it  an  unreliable 
purchasing  commodity,  and  we  had  nothing  to  give  in 
exchange  for  food.  I,  therefore,  felt  that  I had  literally 
rubbed  against  Aladdin’s  lamp  when  I saw  much  needed 
food,  good  and  palatable,  given  in  exchange  for  minie 
balls,  and  for  any  kind  of  metal  convertible  into  destruc- 
tive missiles,  and  I was  anxious  that  others  should  share 
the  benefit  accruing  from  the  lead  mines  mentioned  in  a 
former  sketch.  In  pursuance  of  this  humane  desire,  I 
proclaimed  its  discovery  and  results  from  house  to 
house;  for,  mark  you,  we  had  no  “Daily  Courier,”  nor 
messenger  boy  to  convey  the  glad  tidings  to  the  half-fam- 
ished women  and  children  in  and  around  Decatur.  And 
if  my  words  could  have  been  changed  into  diamonds  by 
the  magic  wand  of  a fairy,  not  one  of  those  starving  peo- 
ple would  have  accepted  the  change  of  diamonds  for 
bread. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


261 


It  required  only  a short  time  to  raise  a large  company 
of  women,  girls  and  little  boys,  who  were  ready  to  do 
service  for  themselves  and  their  country  by  digging  lead 
with  case-knives  from  mines  providentially  furnished 
them.  And  was  it  not  serving  the  cause  of  the  Confed- 
eracy? I thought  so;  and  never  walked  with  more  in- 
dependent steps  than  when  acting  as  generalissimo  of  that 
band  of  devoted,  patriotic  women,  en  route  to  the  “lead 
mines”  around  Atlanta.  Telitha,  too,  evidently  felt  that 
she  was  an  important  adjunct  in  the  mining  enterprise, 
and  a conspicuous  personage  in  the  scenes  being  enacted, 
and  emphasized  her  opinion  by  strong  and  suggestive 
gesticulation.  On  this  occasion  she  playfully  wrenched 
from  my  hand  the  small  vessel  with  which  I had  supplied 
myself  and  which  I carried  on  the  former  trip,  and  sub- 
stituted a larger  one,  while  for  herself  she  got  at  least  a 
half  bushel  measure. 

All  who  remember  the  month  of  December,  1864, 
know  that  it  abounded  in  clouds  and  rain  and  sleet,  and 
was  intensely  cold  in  the  Confederate  States  of  America; 
and  in  the  latitude  embracing  Atlanta,  such  severity  of 
weather  had  never  been  known  to  the  oldest  inhabitant. 
But  what  mattered  it?  Each  one  in  that  little  band  of 
women  was  connected  by  a bright  link  to  the  illustrious 
armies  that  were  enduring  greater  privations  and  hard- 
ship than  those  to  which  she  was  exposed,  and  counted  it 
a willing  oblation  upon  his  country’s  altar,  and  wlm 
should  she  not  prove  faithful  to  the  end,  and  suffer  the 
pangs  of  hunger  and  privation  too? 

The  work  of  picking  up  minie  balls  began  as  soon 


262 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


as  we  reached  the  battle-field,  and,  consequently,  we  car- 
ried several  pounds  some  distance  unnecessarily.  The 
“mine”  proper,  I doubt  not,  could  have  filled  several 
wagons.  As  “a  little  fun  now  and  then  is  relished  by  the 
wisest  men,”  I found  a grim  smile  asserting  itself  at  the 
quaint  and  ready  wit  of  those  estimable  girls,  the  Misses 
Morton,  whose  Christian  names  I have  forgotten  and 
who,  alas!  have  long  since  joined  the  silent  majority. 
One  of  them  assumed  the  character  of  a Confederate  sol- 
dier and  the  other  that  of  a Federal,  and  the  conversation 
carried  on  between  them,  as  they  “exchanged  coffee  and 
tobacco,”  was  rich,  rare  and  racy.  The  exchange  hav- 
ing been  effected,  the  signal  of  combat  was  given.  “Look 
out,  Billy  Yank  “Look  out,  Johnnie  Reb !”  were  simul- 
taneous warnings  from  opposing  forces,  and  minie  balls 
whizzed  through  the  air,  much  to  the  merriment  of  the 
little  boys  who  wished  themselves  men,  that  they  might  be 
with  their  fathers,  whizzing  minie  balls  from  musket 
mouths. 

The  sham  battle  over,  the  work  of  digging  lead  was 
resumed,  and  in  an  amazingly  short  time  our  vessels 
were  filled  to  overflowing.  I watched  Telitha  with  in- 
terest. She  was  eager  to  fill  her  basket,  and  more  than 
once  she  said,  “Me  full !”  and  added  a little  gutteral  laugh 
that  always  indicated  pleasure.  Her  attempt  to  raise  the 
basket  from  the  ground,  and  her  utter  failure  to  do  so 
surprised  her  amazingly,  and  her  disappointment  was  pa- 
thetic. With  great  reluctance  she  saw  her  treasure  re- 
duced to  her  capacity  of  handling.  Each  member  of  the 
party  experienced  similar  disappointment  on  attempting 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


263 


to  raise  her  burden,  and  we  left  more  exhumed  lead  and 
other  valuables  than  we  carried  away. 

We  took  up  our  line  of  march,  and  as  there  were  no 
obstructions  in  the  way  (for,  be  it  remembered,  Sher- 
man had  been  there,  and  with  torch  and  explosive  removed 
all  obstructions  save  the  standing  chimneys  and  car- 
casses of  horses  and  cattle  shot  by  his  order  to  prevent  the 
possibility  of  use  to  the  rebels),  we  struck  a bee-line  to 
the  commissary.  As  the  first  to  take  advantage  of  this 
industry,  I took  the  lead,  and  the  vigor  of  young  woman- 
hood, and  “a  heart  for  every  fate,”  gave  elasticity  to  my 
steps,  and  I soon  outdistanced  even  the  girls.  In  due 
time  we  reached  the  commissary,  and  in  a short  while  a 
most  satisfactory  exchange  was  made,  thanks  to  one 
whose  great  heart  beat  in  unison  with  ours,  and  in  lieu  of 
the  heavy  burden  which  we  laid  down,  we  picked  up  food 
for  the  nourishment  of  our  tired  bodies  and  those  of  our 
loved  ones  at  home.  Oh,  how  light,  comparatively,  it 
seemed ! I verily  believe  if  it  had  weighed  the  same  num- 
ber of  pounds,  it  would  have  seemed  lighter,  and  the 
change  would  have  seemed  restful.  “Good-bye,  noble 
ladies  and  sisters  in  a righteous  cause,”  was  the  parting 
salutation  of  our  no  less  noble  benefactor. 

With  our  respective  packages  of  food  we  again  turned 
our  faces  homeward,  solemn  as  a funeral  march,  for, 
strive  against  them  as  we  would,  we  all  had  forebodings 
of  ill,  and  the  swaying  of  our  bodies  and  our  footsteps 
kept  time  with  the  pulsations  of  our  sad  hearts.  I fan- 
cied as  I approached  standing  chimneys  and  other  evi- 
dences of  destroyed  homes,  that  Sherman,  in  the  guise 


264 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


of  an  evil  spirit,  was  laughing  over  the  destruction  his 
diabolism  had  wrought.  In  the  midst  of  these  reflections 
a song,  which  for  sweetness  and  tranquilizing  melody  I 
have  seldom  heard  equalled  and  never  surpassed,  broke 
the  stillness  of  the  scene  and  added  to  the  melancholy  in- 
terest of  the  occasion.  It  was  the  well  known  ballad, 
then  familiar  to  every  child  in  the  Confederacy,  <cWhen 
this  Cruel  War  is  Over,”  and  sung  by  those  gifted  sisters 
mentioned  as  a part  of  the  lead  digging  company.  The 
pure,  sweet  soprano  voice  of  one  of  the  girls  put  to  flight 
the  spirit  of  Sherman,  and  when  it  was  joined  by  the 
flute-like  alto  of  the  others,  every  evil  spirit  within  and 
without  was  exorcised,  and  that  of  submission  took  its 
place.  And  yet  as  the  words  rang  out  and  found  an 
echo  in  my  own  heart,  I had  to  walk  very  straight,  and 
turn  my  head  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  lest  I 
betray  the  copious  tears  trickling  down  my  cheeks.  At 
length  pent-up  feelings  burst  the  fetters,  and  an  audible 
sob  removed  restraint,  and  we  cried  as  women  burdened 
with  great  sorrow.  Precious  tears ! Nature’s  kind  alle- 
viator in  time  of  trouble. 

“The  day  was  cold  and  dark  and  dreary, 

And  it  rained  and  the  winds  were  never  weary,” 

and  yet  I was  nerved  for  its  duties  and  toil  by  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  met,  uncomplainingly,  the  work 
which  the  preservation  of  my  own  principles  made  me 
willing  to  endure.  Several  days  subsequent  to  this  trip 
to  Atlanta,  the  Morton  girls  came  running  in  and  told 
me  that  we  had  some  delightful  friends  at  the  “Swanton 
place,”  who  requested  to  see  us.  My  mother  was  too 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


265 


much  exhausted  by  anxiety  and  waiting  for  that  which 
never  came,  to  go,  but  approved  my  doing  so.  I,  there- 
fore, donned  my  sunbonnet  and  went ; and  whom  should 
I meet  but  Mrs.  Trenholm  and  her  sweet  young  daugh- 
ters, Essie  and  Lila?  I was  delighted  to  see  them,  and 
invited  them  to  go  home  with  me.  Ma  received  them  in 
a spirit  of  cordial  hospitality,  and  they  were  invited  to  re- 
main at  her  house.  Without  hesitation,  Mrs.  Trenholm 
accepted  the  proffered  kindness,  and  returned  to  her 
wayside  rendezvous  only  to  send  her  trunks,  bedding 
and  other  household  goods.  And  truly  the  coming  of 
that  saintly  woman  and  those  lovely  girls  was  a rare  bene- 
diction, especially  at  that  time.  Day  by  day  ma  looked  in 
vain  for  tidings  from  “the  front” — wherever  that  might 
be — and  day  by  day  her  health  and  strength  was  percep- 
tibly weakened  by  disappointment.  Mrs.  Trenholm’s 
sympathy  with  her  in  her  suspense  regarding  the  opera- 
tions of  Hood’s  army,  and  the  fate  of  her  beloved  son, 
was  both  touching  and  consoling.  Seeing  that  my  mother 
and  myself  were  hoping  almost  against  hope,  she  endeav- 
ored to  bring  us  to  a realization  of  that  fact,  and  a com- 
plete submission  to  the  will  of  God,  even  though  that 
will  deprived  us  of  our  loved  one.  All  of  her  Christian  ar- 
guments and  consolations  had  been  pondered  over  and 
over  by  mother  and  daughter,  but  they  never  seemed  so 
sweet  and  potent  as  when  coming  in  the  chaste  and  sim- 
ple language  of  a precious  saintly  woman. 

With  the  tact  peculiar  to  the  refined  of  every  clime 
and  locality,  Mrs.  Trenholm  assumed  management  of  the 
culinary  department,  and  her  dinner-pot  hung  upon  our 
crane  several  weeks,  and  daily  sent  forth  appetizing  odors 
of  bacon  and  peas.  How  we  enjoyed  those  peas  and  that 


266 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


bacon,  and  the  soup  seasoned  with  the  only  condiments 
at  our  command — salt  and  red  pepper — and  the  good  hoe 
cakes!  Mrs.  Trenholm  had  a large  sack  of  cow  peas, 
and  a sack  of  dried  fruit,  and  other  articles  of  food  which 
she  had  provided  for  herself  and  her  family  before  she 
left  Southwest  Georgia  en  route  to  her  home  in  Marietta, 
which  she  left  in  obedience  to  the  order  of  William  Te- 
cumseh  Sherman,  and  which  she  learned,  before  reaching 
Decatur,  had  shared  the  fate  of  nearly  all  other  homes 
which  had  to  be  thus  abandoned.  Although  magnanf- 
mously  proffered,  we  were  averse  to  sharing  Mrs.  Tren- 
holm’s  well-prepared  and  ofttimes  tempting  cuisine,  un- 
less our  proportion  of  food  equaled  hers ; and  fearing 
even  the  appearance  of  scanty  supplies,  I set  about  to 
gather  up  “the  miners,”  so  that  we  might  appoint  a day 
to  again  go  lead  digging,  if  that  which  we  left  in  as 
many  little  heaps  as  there  were  members  of  the  company 
had  been,  in  the  interim,  gathered  up  by  others. 

On  former  occasions,  I had  led  my  company  to  vic- 
tory over  that  malignant  general  left  by  Sherman  to  com- 
plete his  work,  and  styled  by  him  “General  Starvation, “ 
and  they  were  willing  to  go  wherever  I led.  Now,  I 
had  two  recruits  of  whom  I was  very  proud.  Telitha, 
too,  had  gathered  from  observation  that  the  sweet  young 
Trenholm  girls  were  going  with  us,  and  she  set  about  to 
provide  very  small  baskets  for  their  use,  which,  with 
gestures  amusing  and  appropriate,  she  made  us  under- 
stand were  large  enough  to  contain  all  the  lead  that  girls 
so  pretty  and  so  ladylike  ought  to  carry.  To  their  credit, 
however,  they  repudiated  that  idea,  and  carried  larger 
vessels.  By  appointment  the  “lead  diggers”  were  to  meet 
at  the  tanyard,  those  arriving  first  to  wait  until  the  en- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


267 


tire  number  came.  “Man  proposes  and  God  disposes.” 
Just  as  my  last  glove  was  drawn  on,  Telitha,  ever  on 
the  alert,  said  “Morton,  Morton,”  and  I looked  and  saw 
the  girls  coming.  “We  needn’t  go — the  commissary  has 
folded  its  tents,  and  silently  stolen  away,”  was  the  volun- 
tary announcement.  Imagine  my  consternation  and  dis- 
appointment— the  last  hope  of  supply  cut  off ! Ma  saw 
the  effect  upon  me,  and  said  in  a more  hopeful  voice  than 
was  her  wont,  “The  Lord  is  my  shepherd,  I shall  not 
want.”  And  good  Mrs.  Trenholm  said  her  sack  of  peas 
was  like  the  cruse  of  oil  that  never  seemed  to  diminish  in 
quantity,  however  much  was  taken  out  of  it.  An  exami- 
nation, too,  of  our  own  resources  was  quite  gratifying; 
but  I knew  I ought  to  be  “providing  for  a rainy  day.” 

I pass  now  over  an  interval  which  brings  me  to  the 
latter  part  of  January,  1865.  My  sister  returned  home 
from  Madison  and  spent  several  weeks  with  us,  but  had 
accepted  an  offer  to  teach  at  Grantville,  on  the  LaGrange 
and  West  Point  Railroad.  I had  a precious  aunt,  my 
mother’s  sister,  Mrs.  Annie  Watson,  whom  I loved  dear- 
ly, and  of  whom  I had  not  heard  a word  since  the  inter- 
ruption of  the  mail  communication  by  the  siege  of  At- 
lanta, and  my  mother’s  frequent  mention  of  her  deter- 
mined me  to  go  and  see  if  this  beloved  aunt  was  living,  and, 
if  so,  in  what  condition.  I knew  she  was  one  of  the  fav- 
ored ones  of  earth,  viewed  from  a worldly  standpoint,  but 
I knew  not  what  changes  had  come  over  her  or  her 
worldly  possessions.  Rumor  conveyed  startling  accounts 
of  the  atrocious  deeds  of  Wilson’s  raiders,  and  I knew 
that  they  were  operating  in  that  rich  cotton  belt  of  Ala- 
bama which  embraced  my  aunt’s  plantation  and  beautiful 
home.  I could  scarcely  hope  that  that  home  and  its  val- 


268 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


uable  appointments  had  escaped  the  cupidity  of  an  or- 
ganized band  of  robbers  protected  by  the  United  States 
Government. 

When  I think  of  my  mother’s  fond  affection  for  her 
children,  and  her  tender  solicitude  for  their  welfare,  I 
am  constrained  to  think  that  she  thought  I was  en- 
dowed with  a sort  of  charmed  existence  not  subject  to 
the  perils  which  beset  the  pathway  of  ordinary  mortals, 
and  hence  her  ready  acquiescence  to  my  proposition  to 
undertake  a journey  of  many  miles  under  circumstances  of 
imminent  danger,  inspired  me  with  confidence  amounting 
to  certainty  that  I would  be  preserved  by  an  All-wise 
Providence  for  future  usefulness.  I had  very  little  pre- 
paration to  make  for  the  contemplated  trip.  A pretty, 
small-checked  dress,  which  had  done  service  through 
many  a changing  scene,  and  was  good  for  as  many  more, 
and  a hat — well,  I beg  to  be  excused  from  describing  it — 
and  gloves  upon  which  I had  expended  skill  in  darning 
until  it  was  difficult  to  perceive  where  the  darning  ceased 
and  the  glove  began,  completed  my  toilet,  and  I bade 
to  all  appearance  a cheerful  good-bye  to  my  mother  and 
kind  friends,  and  went  by  private  conveyance  to  Fair- 
burn.  There  I took  the  train  for  Cowles’  Station,  Ala- 
bama. 

Nothing  of  particular  interest  transpired  on  the  way. 
My  country  was  prostrate  and  bleeding  from  many  lacera- 
tions, and  my  tears  flowed  so  freely  that  by  the  time  I 
reached  my  railroad  destination  I had  a very  sick  head- 
ache. That  “there  is  a providence  that  shapes  our  ends” 
was  again  illustrated.  Some  of  my  aunt’s  neighbors, 
who  knew  me  at  least  by  name,  were  at  the  station,  and 
kindly  offered  to  carry  me  to  her  residence,  a distance  of 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


269 


ten  miles.  I found  my  aunt  in  feeble  health,  and  all 
alone  save  her  usual  dusky  attendant.  Her  only  child, 
Mrs.  Mary  E.  Seaman,  had  gone  to  Tuskeegee  to  see  her 
little  daughter,  who  was  there  going  to  school  in  care  of 
a friend  and  relative,  Col.  Smith  Graham.  My  closest 
scrutiny  failed  to  detect  any  change  in  my  aunt’s  mode 
of  living.  The  same  retinue  of  servants  came  into  the 
house  to  see  and  shake  hands  with  mistress’  niece,  and 
after  many  questions  about  “our  white  folks  in  Georgia,” 
retired  from  my  presence  with  the  same  courtesy  that  had 
marked  their  demeanor  towards  me  in  ante-bellum  days. 

My  aunt  manifested  her  joy  at  seeing  me  in  many 
ways,  and  wept  and  smiled  alternately,  as  I related  my 
adventures  with  the  Yankees.  “And  my  sister,  what 
was  their  treatment  of  her?”  My  evasive  answer,  “It 
could  have  been  worse,”  heightened  her  desire  to  learn 
particulars,  and  I told  them  to  her.  She  was  grateful 
for  all  leniency  shown  by  them,  and  affected  to  tears  by 
unkindness.  As  the  day  waned,  and  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  came  on,  my  aunt  proposed  walking  “to  meet 
Mary.”  I supported  her  fragile,  form,  and  guided  her 
footsteps  in  the  best  part  of  the  road.  How  like  her  be- 
loved sister  in  Georgia  she  seemed ! Accustomed  to  this 
little  diversion,  for  she  always  went  to  meet  Mary,  she 
had  reckoned  accurately  regarding  the  time  of  her  daugh- 
ter’s coming,  and  we  had  not  gone  far  when  we  saw  the 
carriage  descending  a declivity  in  the  distance.  Nelson, 
the  coachman,  had  also  recognized  “Mistress  and  Miss 
Mary,”  and  announced  his  discovery  to  my  cousin.  In- 
creased speed  in  the  gait  of  the  horses  soon  brought  us 
together,  and  she  opened  the  door  and  stepped  to  the 
ground.  After  kissing  her  dear  mother,  she  encircled  me 


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in  her  arms,  and  kissed  me  time  and  again,  and  then  as- 
sisted me  into  the  carriage,  and  she  and  her  mother  fol- 
lowed. I greeted  the  coachman  in  a cordial  manner,  be- 
cause of  past  service  and  present  fidelity  to  “mistress  and 
my  white  folks”  generally. 

With  my  rapidity  in  conversation,  I could  scarcely 
keep  up  with  my  cousin’s  questions.  Happy  woman ! 
She  had  never  seen  any  “Bluecoats,”  or,  in  the  par- 
lance of  the  times,  “Yankees,”  and  she  enjoyed  my  des- 
cription of  them,  especially  when  in  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion, “Do  they  look  like  our  men?”  I attempted  to  de- 
fine the  difference.  It  was  amusing  to  me  to  hear  her  de- 
scribe the  preparations  she  made  for  the  coming  of  Wil- 
son and  his  raiders. 

After  reaching  home,  she  left  her  mother  and  myself 
only  a few  minutes.  I scarcely  perceived  her  absence, 
and  yet  when  she  returned  the  disparity  in  our  dress  was 
not  so  apparent.  The  elegant  traveling  suit  had  been  ex- 
changed for  her  plainest  home  attire,  and  every  article  of 
jewelry  had  disappeared.  The  brief  period  spent  with 
these  dear  relatives  was  spent  in  mutual  efforts  to  enter- 
tain and  amuse  each  other.  My  aunt’s  conversation  was 
like  sweet  music  in  which  minor  chords  abounded.  Her 
love  for  her  sister,  and  apprehension  of  evil,  gave  a pathet- 
ic turn  to  every  conversation  she  attempted,  and  it  was 
evident  to  me  that  she  had  given  up  all  hope  of  my  broth- 
er’s safety,  and  her  resignation  under  similar  circum- 
stances was  a great  support  to  me. 

Much  as  I enjoyed  this  luxurious  home,  and  its  re- 
fined appointments,  there  was  a controlling  motive — a 
nearer  tie — that  made  me  willing  to  again  take  up  the 
hardships  and  perils  of  warfare,  and  battle  for  life  with 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


271 


that  relentless  enemy  left  by  Sherman  to  complete  his 
cruel  work,  the  aforesaid  General  Starvation. 

After  many  farewell  words  were  spoken,  I left  my 
aunt,  accompanied  by  her  daughter,  who  went  with  me 
to  the  station  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  me  on  the  train 
bound  for  Fairburn,  then  the  terminus  of  the  railroad. 
It  was  past  noon  when  the  train  left  the  station,  and  in 
those  days  of  slow  railroad  locomotion,  it  was  all  the 
afternoon  reaching  West  Point.  I learned  before  reach- 
ing there  that  I would  have  to  remain  over  until  the  next 
morning,  and,  therefore,  as  soon  as  I stepped  from  the 
cars,  started  to  hunt  a place  at  which  to  spend  the  night. 
Wending  my  way,  solitary  and  alone,  through  the  twi- 
light, I saw  Mr.  John  Pate,  the  depot  agent  at  Decatur, 
coming  towards  me. 

“Oh,  Mr.  Pate,  have  you  heard  anything  from  ma 
in  the  last  week?” 

“Yes;  it  went  very  hard  with  her,  but  she  was  some 
better  this  morning.” 

I did  not  have  to  ask  another  question.  I knew  it 
all,  and  was  dumb  with  grief.  The  thought  that  I would 
never  see  my  darling  brother  again  paralyzed  me.  I saw 
him  in  the  mirror  of  my  soul,  in  all  the  periods  of  his  ex- 
istence. The  beautiful  little  baby  boy,  looking  at  me  the 
first  time  out  of  his  heavenly  blue  eyes,  and  his  second 
look,  as  if  not  satisfied  with  the  first,  followed  by  the 
suggestion  of  a smile.  Ah,  that  smile!  It  had  never 
failed  me  through  successive  years  and  varying  scenes. 
The  boyhood  and  youth — honest,  truthful  and  generous  to 
a fault — and  the  noble,  genial  boyhood,  had  all  developed 
within  my  recollection,  and  I loved  him  with  an  intensity 
bordering  on  idolatry.  These  scenes  and  many  others 


272 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


rushed  through  my  mind  with  kaleidoscopic  rapidity  and 
made  me  so  dizzy  that  I had  no  knowledge  of  how  I 
reached  the  “hotel.”  My  heart  cried  and  refused  to  be 
comforted.  From  the  consolation  of  religion  and  patriot- 
ism it  recoiled  and  cried  all  the  more.  A great  tie  of 
nature  had  been  sundered,  and  the  heart,  bruised  and 
crushed  and  bleeding,  pulsated  still  with  vitality  that 
would  have  flickered  out  but  for  the  hope  of  giving  com- 
fort to  the  poor  bereaved  mother  and  sister  in  our  great 
sorrow.  Good  ladies  bathed  my  throbbing  temples  and 
kissed  my  cheeks  and  spoke  comforting  words,  for  they 
were  all  drinking  the  bitter  waters  of  Marah,  and  knew 
how  to  reach  the  heart  and  speak  of  the  balm  of  Gilead. 

“Killed  on  the  battle-field,  thirty  steps  from  the  breast- 
works at  Franklin,  Tennessee,  November  30th,  1864,” 
was  the  definite  information  regarding  my  brother’s 
death,  left  for  me  by  Mr.  Pate. 

Interminable  as  the  darkness  of  night  appeared,  it  at 
length  gave  way  to  the  light  of  day,  and  I was  ready  with 
its  dawn  to  take  the  train.  But,  oh,  the  weight  of  this 
grief  that  was  crushing  me ! Had  the  serpents  which 
attacked  Laocoon,  and  crushed  him  to  death  by  their 
dreadful  strength,  reached  out  and  embraced  me  in  their 
complicated  folds,  I could  not  have  writhed  in  greater 
agony.  I did  not  believe  it  was  God’s  will  that  my 
brother  should  die,  and  I could  not  say  to  that  Holy  Be- 
ing, “Thy  will  be  done.”  In  some  way  I felt  a complicity 
in  his  death — a sort  of  personal  responsibility.  When 
my  brother  wrote  to  me  from  his  adopted  home  in 
Texas  that,  having  voted  for  secession,  he  believed  it  to 
be  his  duty  to  face  the  danger  involved  by  that  step  and 
fight  for  the  principles  of  self-government  vouchsafed  by 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


273 


the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  I said  nothing  in 
reply  to  discourage  him,  but  rather  I indicated  that  if  I 
were  eligible  I should  enter  the  contest.  These,  and 
such  as  these  were  the  harrowing  reflections  which  ac- 
cused me  of  personal  responsibility  for  the  demon  of  war 
entering  our  household  and  carrying  oft  the  hope  and 
prop  of  a widowed  mother. 

I found  my  poor  stricken  mother  almost  prostrate. 
The  tidings  of  her  son’s  tragic  death  did  the  work  ap- 
prehended by  all  who  knew  her  nervous  temperament. 
Outwardly  calm  and  resigned,  yet  almost  paralyzed  by 
the  blow,  she  was  being  tenderly  cared  for  by  our  saintly 
neighbor,  Mrs.  Ammi  Williams  and  her  family,  who  will 
always  be  held  in  grateful  remembrance  by  her  daughters. 


274 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MY  MOTHER'S  DEATH. 


Rev.  Dr.  John  S.  Wilson  performs  the  funeral  service. 


In  sympathy  with  a disappointed  people  who  had 
staked  all  and  lost  all  in  vain  effort  to  defend  the  in- 
herited rights  of  freemen,  and  had  not  yet  rallied  from 
the  depression  occasioned  by  defeat,  the  spring  of  1866 
had  withheld  her  charms,  and,  instead  of  donning  a man- 
tle of  green,  decorated  with  pansies,  violets  and  prim- 
roses, hyacinths,  bluebells  and  daffodils,  verbenas,  phlox 
and  geraniums,  and  bloom  of  vine  and  briar  in  endless 
variety,  the  first  day  of  April  found  her  wounded,  bleed- 
ing bosom  wrapped  in  the  habiliments  of  sorrow  and  des- 
pondency. A few  brave  old  apple  trees,  as  if  to  encour- 
age the  more  timid,  had  budded  and  blossomed  and  sent 
forth  sweet  fragrance  as  of  yore,  and  a few  daring  sprigs 
of  grass  suggested  spring-time  and  sunny  skies.  Lone- 
liness, oppressive  and  melancholy,  and  a spirit  of  unrest, 
prompted  me  to  go  to  the  depot  in  quest  of  something 
that  never  came,  and  my  sister  had  stepped  over  to  our 
neighbour,  Mrs.  Williams’. 

Our  mother  loved  the  spring-time.  It  had  always  been 
her  favorite  season  of  the  year.  Fifty-nine  vernal  suns 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


275 


had  brought  inspiration  and  hope  to  her  sensitive,  tender 
heart,  and  given  support  to  a checkered  life ; but  now 
no  day-star  of  hope  shed  its  effulgence  for  her.  As  I 
mentioned  in  a former  sketch,  her  only  son  had  fallen 
mortally  wounded  upon  the  sanguinary  battle-field  of 
Franklin,  and  she  had  never  recovered  from  the  shock. 

After  a few  months  of  patient  endurance,  an  attack 
of  paralysis  had  occurred,  and  during  many  days  life  and 
death  contended  for  the  victory.  But  the  skill  of  good 
physicians,  among  them  Dr.  Joseph  P.  Logan,  and  faith- 
ful, efficient  nursing,  aided  in  giving  hei  a comfortable 
state  of  health  lasting  through  several  months.  But  the 
fiat  had  gone  forth,  and  now  after  a pathetic  survey  of 
earth,  mingled  with  thankfulness  even  then  to  the  God 
of  the  spring-time,  she  succumbed  to  the  inevitable. 

Returning  from  the  depot,  I espied  in  the  distance  the 
approaching  figure  of  Telitha.  As  she  came  up  to  me 
she  was  the  very  picture  of  despair.  With  one  hand 
clasped  to  her  head,  she  fell  on  the  ground  and  lay  as  if 
dead  for  a moment.  My  worst  apprehensions  were  more 
than  realized.  I found  my  mother  speechless,  and  never 
more  heard  her  voice — never  more  heard  any  sound  ema- 
nating from  her  lips  except  labored  heavy  breathing.  It 
was  all  so  sudden  and  strange  and  sad,  I can  not  des- 
cribe it.  Neighbors  and  friends  came  in  by  the  score, 
and  did  all  they  could  to  mitigate  our  great  sorrow. 
“Johnnie”  Hardeman  stayed  until  all  was  over,  and 
mother  never  received  from  loving  son  kinder  care  or 
more  unremitting  attention.  Paul  Winn  also  remained 
and  manifested  deep  sympathy,  and  so  did  other  neigh- 


276 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


bors.  Oh,  the  sorrow,  the  poignant  sorrow,  to  see  a 
mother  in  the  embrace  of  death,  and  to  have  no  power 
over  the  monster ! About  thirty  hours  of  unconscious- 
ness, and  without  a struggle,  “life’s  fitful  dream  was 
over,’’  about  9 o’clock  p.  m.,  April  1st,  1866.  The  silent 
hush  that  ensued  was  sacred,  and  scarcely  broken  by  the 
sobs  of  those  most  deeply  afflicted. 

Loving  hands  fashioned  a shroud,  and  a beautiful 
casket  was  obtained  from  Atlanta.  When  all  was  done, 
and  our  mother  arrayed  for  the  tomb,  she  looked  like  the 
bride  of  Heaven.  I gazed  long  and  earnestly  upon  her 
face  and  figure,  and  went  away  and  came  back,  and  gazed 
again  admiringly.  For  every  lineament  was  formed  into 
a mold  that  compelled  admiration. 

During  the  two  days  that  she  lay  there,  1 often  lin- 
gered by  her  side ; and  I recalled  the  many  scenes,  oft- 
times  perilous  and  sad,  and  ofttimes  joyous  and  gay, 
through  which  we  had  gone  together.  Although  a wee 
bit  girl,  scarcely  turned  in  my  fifth  year  at  the  time  of 
my  mother’s  second  marriage,  I remembered  her  as  a 
bride.  I remembered  our  journey  by  gig  and  wagon  to 
Cassville,  then,  paradoxical  as  it  may  sound  now,  sit- 
uated in  the  heart  of  a wilderness  of  beauty  and  savagery. 
The  war-whoop  of  an  uncivilized  race  of  Indians,  justly 
angry  and  resentful,  reverberated  through  the  impene- 
trable forest  that  belted  the  little  settlement  of  white  peo- 
ple that  had  the  hardihood  and  bravery  to  make  their 
homes  among  them.  I remembered  how  she  soon  be- 
came a favorite,  and  was  beloved  by  every  one  in  that 
sparsely-settled  locality,  and  won  even  the  hearts  of  the 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


277 


Indians,  by  kindness  towards  them.  She  taught  them 
how  to  make  frocks  and  shirts,  and  clothes  for  their  chil- 
dren, for  the  Cherokees  were  an  ambitious  people,  and 
aspired  to  assimilation  with  the  white  race ; and,  to  please 
them,  she  learned  to  bead  moccasins,  and  other  articles, 
ornamental  and  useful,  just  as  they  did.  She  also  learned 
their  alphabet,  and  became  able  to  instruct  them  in  their 
own  language. 

I remembered  how  she  had  always  worked  for  the 
poor;  not  so  much  in  societies  (where  the  good  that  is 
accomplished  in  one  way  is  often  more  than  counter- 
balanced by  the  harm  that  is  done  in  others),  as  in  the 
quiet  of  her  home,  and  in  the  humble  habitations  of  God’s 
poor.  I remembered,  with  a melancholy  thrill,  how  she 
had  worked  for  our  soldiers,  and  had  not  withheld  good 
deeds  from  an  invading  alien  army.  Reverently  I took 
in  mine  her  little,  symmetrical  hand  as  it  lay  peacefully 
over  the  heart  that  had  ever  beat  in  unison  with  all  that 
was  good.  It  was  weather-beaten,  and  I could  feel  the 
rough  places  on  the  palm  through  the  pretty  white  silk 
glove  in  which  it  was  encased.  Cold  and  stark  in  death, 
it  gave  no  responsive  pressure  to  my  own.  I thought  of 
its  past  service  to  me  in  which  it  never  tired.  It  had 
trained  my  own  from  the  rudimentary  “straight  lines” 
and  “pot  hooks,”  through  all  the  intricacies  of  skilled 
penmanship,  and  from  the  picturesque  letters  on  a samp- 
ler to  the  complete  stitches  of  advanced  embroidery. 
The  little  motionless  hand  that  I now  held  in  my  own 
had  picked  corn  from  cracks  and  crevices  in  bureau 
drawers,  which  served  as  troughs  for  Garrard’s  cavalry 


278 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


horses,  to  make  bread  with  which  to  appease  her  hunger 
and  mine.  I gazed  upon  the  pallid  face  and  finely-chis- 
eled features.  The  nose  never  seemed  so  perfect,  or  the 
brow  so  fair,  or  the  snow-white  hair  so  beautiful.  Th,e 
daintiest  of  mull  caps  heightened  the  effect  of  the  per- 
fect combination  of  feature,  placidity  and  intellectual  ex- 
pression. I fancied  I had  never  seen  her  look  so  beauti- 
ful, and  felt  that  it  was  meet  that  we  should  lay  her 
away  in  a tomb  where  she  could  rest  undisturbed  until 
the  great  resurrection  morn,  not  doubting  that  the  vcj- 
dict  of  a great  and  good  God  would  assign  her  a place 
among  His  chosen  ones. 

Soothing  to  our  bruised  hearts  was  the  sweet  sing- 
ing of  those  who  watched  at  night  beside  her  lifeless 
form.  With  gratitude  we  remember  them  still : Laura 
and  Mary  Williams,  Emma  and  John  Kirkpatrick,  Josiah 
Willard  and  John  McKoy.  One  of  the  hymns  they  sang 
was  “Jerusalem,  My  Happy  Home.” 

The  hour  for  the  funeral  service  came.  Friends  and 
neighbors  and  fellow-citizens  had  been  assembling  for 
several  hours,  and  now  the  house  was  full,  and  the  yard 
was  thronged.  Where  did  this  concourse  of  people  come 
from — old  men,  war-stricken  veterans,  and  a few  young 
men  who  had  survived  the  bloody  conflict  that  had  deci- 
mated the  youth  of  the  South,  and  boys  and  women  and 
girls ! All  alike  came  to  pay  respect  to  the  deceased 
friend,  and  to  show  sympathy  for  the  bereaved  and 
lonely  sisters.  That  sainted  man  and  friend  of  ours, 
Rev.  John  S.  Wilson,  took  his  stand  near  the  casket, 
and  we  sat  near  him,  and  those  who  loved  us  best  got 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


279 


very  near  to  us.  Ah,  well  do  I remember  them ! I 
could  call  each  by  name  now,  and  the  order  in  which 
they  came.  An  impressive  silence  ensued,  broken  by 
the  man  of  God  uttering  in  hopeful  intonation  and  an- 
imated manner,  “She  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth,”  and  a 
sermon  followed  upon  the  resurrection  of  God’s  people, 
never  surpassed  in  interest  and  pathos.  All  felt  the 
power  of  his  theme,  and  the  eloquence  of  his  words.  He 
also  spoke  of  the  humble  modesty  of  his  friend,  who 
had  counted  herself  least  in  the  congregation  of  the 
righteous,  and  dispensed  favors  to  others  in  an  unobtru- 
sive manner,  and  who  practically  illustrated  the  divine 
command : “Do  unto  others  as  ye  would  that  others 
should  do  unto  you.”  This  beautiful  funeral  tribute 
was  succeeded  by  the  hymn — 

“Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me,” 

which  was  sung  with  an  unction  which  none  but  Chris- 
tians can  feel. 

The  last  earthly  look,  solemn  and  earnest,  was  taken 
of  our  long-suffering,  patient,  loving  mother,  and  every- 
body in  the  house  followed  our  example  and  gazed  rev- 
erently upon  the  pretty  face,  cold  in  death.  And  then 
the  pall-bearers,  “Johnnie”  Kirkpatrick,  “Johnnie”  Hard- 
eman, Virgil  Wilson  and  Mr.  G.  W.  Houston,  bore  her 
to  the  grave. 

With  uncovered  head  and  grey  locks  fluttering  in  the 
vernal  breeze,  Dr.  Wilson  repeated  the  beautiful  burial 
service  of  the  Presbyterian  Church.  I can  never  describe 
the  utter  desolation  of  feeling  I experienced  as  I stood 
clasped  in  the  arms  of  my  sister,  and  heard  the  first 


280 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


spadeful  of  earth  fall  over  the  remains  of  our  loved 
one. 

But  we  had!  heard  above  all  the  glorious  words, 
“This  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality,”  and  “O,  death, 
where  is  thy  sting?  O,  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?” 


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281 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A REMINISCENCE. 

“Sister,  you  are  not  paying  any  attention  whatever 
to  my  reading,  and  you  are  losing  the  most  beautiful 
thoughts  in  this  delightful  book.” 

“Yes,  and  I am  sorry  to  do  so;  but  I think  I see 
one  of  Rachel’s  children — Madeline  or  Frances.” 

My  sister  closed  her  book,  and,  looking  in  the  direc- 
tion indicated,  agreed  with  me  that  the  negro  woman, 
clothed  in  the  habiliments  of  widowhood,  who  was  com- 
ing up  the  avenue  with  a little  boy  by  her  side  and  one 
in  her  arms,  was  one  of  Rachel’s  children ; and,  although 
she  was  scarcely  in  her  teens  when  she  went  away,  she 
was  a mother  now,  and  traces  of  care  were  visible  in 
every  lineament  of  her  face.  I recognized  her,  however, 
as  Rachel’s  youngest  daughter,  Frances,  and  went  to 
meet  her. 

“Is  that  you,  Frances?”  I asked 

“Yes,  Miss  Mary,  this  is  me;  your  same  nigger  Fran- 
ces, and  these  are  my  children.” 

“I  am  glad  to  see  you  and  your  children” ; and  I ex- 
tended my  hand  in  genuine  cordiality  to  her  who  had 
once  been  a slave  in  my  mother’s  family,  and  I bade 
her  welcome  to  her  old  home.  Frances  was  too  de- 


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LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


monstrative  to  be  satisfied  with  simply  hand-clasping, 
and  putting  her  boy  on  the  ground,  she  threw  her  arms 
around  me  and  literally  overwhelmed  me  with  kisses. 
My  hands,  neck  and  face  were  covered  with  them,  and 
she  picked  me  up  and  carried  me  in  her  arms  to  the 
house,  her  children  following  in  amazed  astonishment. 
She  now  turned  her  attention  to  them,  and,  after  delib- 
erately shaking  the  wrinkles  out  of  their  clothes,  she  as 
deliberately  introduced  them  to  me.  The  older  of  the 
two  she  introduced  as  “King  by  name,”  and  the  younger 
as  “Lewis  by  name.” 

“You  see,  Miss  Mary,  I named  my  children  King  and 
Lewis  ’cause  my  white  folks  named  my  brothers  King 
and  Lewis. 

The  ceremony  of  introducing  her  sons  to  her  old 
white  folks  being  performed  to  her  satisfaction,  she 
again  turned  her  attention  to  me,  and  again  literally 
overwhelmed  me  with  caresses. 

Entering  the  house,  I asked  Frances  and  her  children 
to  come  in,  too. 

“Miss  Mary,  whar’s  Miss  Polly?” 

“Have  you  not  heard,  Frances,  that  ma  is  dead?” 

“Seem  to  me  I has  heard  somethin’  about  it,  but  some 
how  I didn’t  believe  it.  And  my  poor  Miss  Polly  is  dead ! 
Well,  she  ain’t  dead,  but  she’s  gone  to  heaven.” 

And  Frances  became  quite  hysterical  in  demonstra- 
tions of  grief. 

“And  Marse  Thomie,  what  about  him,  Miss  Mary?” 

“He  was  killed  by  the  enemy  at  Franklin,  Tennessee, 
the  30th  of  November,  1864.” 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


283 


“Miss  Mary,  did  them  old  Yankees  kill  him?” 

“Yes,  he  was  killed  in  battle.” 

And  again,  whether  sincere  or  affected,  Frances  be- 
came hysterical  in  demonstrations  of  grief. 

“Miss  Mary,  whar’s  Miss  Missouri?  Is  she  dead, 
too?” 

“No;  that  was  she  who  was  sitting  in  the  portico 
with  me  as  you  were  coming  up  the  avenue.  She  always 
has  to  go  off  and  compose  herself  before  meeting  any 
of  you — ma  was  that  way,  too — I suppose  you  remind 
her  of  happier  days,  and  the  contrast  is  so  sad  that  she 
is  overcome  by  grief  and  has  to  get  relief  in  tears.” 

“Yes’m,  I have  to  cry,  too,  and  it  does  me  a monstrous 
heap  of  good.  I know  it’s  mighty  childish,  but  I jest 
can’t  help  it.  Jest  to  think  all  my  white  folks  is  done 
dead  but  Miss  Mary  and  Miss  Missouri !” 

“Our  brother  left  a dear  little  boy  in  Texas,  and  I 
am  going  after  him  next  winter.  He  and  his  mother 
are  going  to  live  with  us,  and  then  we  will  not  be  so 
lonely.” 

“That’s  so,  Miss  Mary.” 

Frances  and  her  children  having  partaken  of  a boun- 
tiful supper,  she  resumed  with  renewed  vigor,  her  er- 
ratic conversation,  which  consisted,  chiefly,  of  innumer- 
able questions,  interspersed  with  much  miraculous  in- 
formation regarding  herself  since  she  left  her  white 
folks  and  became  a wife,  a mother,  and  a widow. 

“Miss  Mary,  whar’s  my  children  going  to  sleep  to- 
night?” 

“With  your  help  I will  provide  a comfortable  place 
for  them,  and,  also,  for  you.” 


284 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


And  taking  a lantern  and  leading  the  way  to  the 
kitchen,  I entered  and  pointed  to  a light  bedstead,  and 
told  her  to  carry  a portion  of  it  at  a time  to  my  room, 
and  we  would  put  it  up  in  there. 

“Same  old  room,  jest  like  it  was  when  me  and  my 
mammy  used  to  sleep  in  it.” 

“Well,  things  do  look  mighty  nateral  if  it  has  been 
a long  time  since  I seed  it. 

“And  Miss  Mary  is  agoing  to  let  me  and  my  children 
sleep  in  her  room.  Well!” 

The  bedstead  having  been  placed  in  position,  a mat- 
tress and  bed  clothing  were  furnished.  And  soon  the 
little  negro  children  were  soundly  sleeping  under  the 
protecting  roof  of  their  mother’s  former  young  mis- 
tresses. 

“Whar’s  your  tea-kettle,  Miss  Mary?”  Having  been 
told  where  to  find  it,  Frances  took  it  to  the  well  and 
filled  it  with  water,  and,  by  adding  a little  more  fuel 
to  the  fire,  soon  had  it  boiling. 

“Whar’s  your  bath-tub,  Miss  Mary?” 

That,  too,  was  soon  produced  and  supplied  with  hot 
water,  reduced  to  proper  temperature.  Memories  of  the 
past  left  no  doubt  in  my  mind  as  to  the  use  to  which 
the  water  was  to  be  applied,  and  I determined  to  gratify 
every  fancy  that  would  give  pleasure  to  our  former  hand- 
maid, and,  therefore,  I made  no  resistance  when  garters 
were  unbuckled,  shoes  and  stockings  removed,  and  feet 
tenderly  lifted  into  the  tub.  She  knew  just  how  long 
to  keep  them  there,  and  how  to  manipulate  them  so  as  to 
give  the  most  satisfaction  and  enjoyment;  and  how  to 
dry  them — a very  important  process.  And  then  the 
shoes  and  stockings  were  again  put  on,  and  giving  me  an 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


285 


affectionate  pat  on  the  head  she  told  me  to  sit  still  until 
she  told  me  to  move. 

“Now,  whar’s  your  comb  and  brush?” 

The  force  of  habit  must  have  impelled  her  to  ask 
this  question,  as,  without  awaiting  an  answer,  she  went 
to  the  bureau  and  got  the  articles  about  which  she  had 
asked,  and  in  a few  moments  she  had  my  long,  luxu- 
riant black  hair  uncoiled  and  flowing  over  my  shoulders. 
She  was  delighted ; she  combed  and  braided  it,  and  un- 
braided and  combed  it  again  and  again,  and  finally,  as  if 
reluctant  to  do  so,  arranged  it  for  the  night. 

“Now,  whar’s  your  gown?” 

“You  will  find  it  hanging  in  the  wordrobe.” 

Having  undressed  me,  Frances  insisted  upon  putting 
the  gown  on  me,  and  then  wanted  to  carry  and  put  me  in 
bed;  this  service,  however,  I declined  with  thanks.  All 
these  gentle  manipulations  had  a soporific  effect  upon 
me,  and  I fain  would  have  slept,  but  no  such  pleasure 
was  in  store  for  me.  Frances  had  an  axe  to  grind,  and 
I had  to  turn  the  grindstone,  or  incur  her  displeasure. 
Mark  her  proposition : 

“Miss  Mary,  I come  to  give  you  my  children.” 

“Your  what?” 

“My  children,  these  smart  little  boys.  I’ll  go  with 
you  to  the  court-house  in  the  mornin’  and  you  can  have 
the  papers  drawn  up  and  I’ll  sign  ’em,  and  these  little 
niggers  will  belong  to  you  ’til  they’s  of  age  to  do  for 
theyselves;  and  all  I’ll  ever  ask  you  to  do  for  ’em  is 
to  raise  them  like  my  Miss  Polly  raised  me.” 

“That  you  should  be  willing  to  give  your  children 
away,  Frances,  surprises  me  exceedingly.  If  you  are 
without  a home,  and  would  like  to  come  here  and  live, 


286 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


I will  do  all  I can  for  you  and  your  children.  The  kitchen 
is  not  occupied  only  as  a lumber  or  baggage  room,  and 
you  can  have  that  without  paying  rent ; and  you  can  take 
care  of  the  cow  and  have  all  you  can  make  off  of  her 
milk  and  butter,  except  just  enough  for  the  table  use  of 
two ; and  you  can  have  a garden  without  paying  rent,  and 
many  other  favors — indeed,  I will  favor  you  in  every 
possible  way.” 

“Well,  I tell  you  how  it  is,  Miss  Mary.  You  see, 
mammy  wants  to  open  up  a laundry,  and  she  wants  me 
to  help  her.  She’s  done  ’gaged  several  womens  to  help 
her,  and  she  wants  me  to  go  in  with  her  sorter  as  a part- 
ner, yon  see.  And  I wants  to  get  my  children  a good 
home,  for  you  knows  if  I had  to  take  care  of  ’em  I 
couldn’t  do  much  in  a laundry.” 

“And  you  want  me  to  take  care  of  them?” 

“Yes’m;  just  like  you  used  to  take  care  of  your  own 
little  niggers  before  freedom,  and  after  I sign  the  papers 
they’ll  belong  to  you,  don’t  you  know.” 

“I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  Frances,  but  I can 
not  accept  your  offer.  If  slavery  were  restored  and  every 
negro  on  the  American  continent  were  offered  to  me,  I 
should  spurn  the  offer,  and  prefer  poverty  rather  than 
assume  the  cares  and  perplexities  of  the  ownership  of 
a people  who  have  shown  very  little  gratitude  for  what 
has  been  done  for  them.”  Without  seeming  to  notice 
the  last  sentence,  Frances  exclaimed  : 

“Well,  it’s  mighty  strange.  White  folks  used  to 
love  little  niggers,  and  now  they  won’t  have  them  as  a 
gracious  gift.” 

Under  the  cover  of  night  she  had  made  her  proposi- 
tion and  received  her  disappointment,  after  which  she 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


287 


lav  down  by  her  children  and  was  soon  sleeping  at  the 
rate  of  2 140  per  hour,  if  computed  by  the  snoring  she 
kept  up.  In  due  time  morning,  cheerful,  sun-lighted 
morning,  came,  and  with  it  many  benign  influences  and 
good  resolutions  for  the  day. 

Frances  asked  where  everything  was,  and  having 
ascertained,  went  to  work  and  soon  had  a nice,  appetiz- 
ing breakfast  for  us,  as  well  as  for  herself  and  children. 
After  that  important  meal  had  been  enjoyed,  she  in- 
quired about  the  trains  on  the  Georgia  Railroad,  and 
asked  what  time  she  could  go  into  Atlanta.  I told  her 
she  could  go  at  nine  o’clock,  but  I preferred  that  she 
should  stay  until  twelve  o’clock,  m. 

“Miss  Mary,  what  was  in  that  trunk  I saw  in  the 
kitchen  last  night?” 

“I  scarcely  know ; odds  and  ends  put  there  for  safe- 
keeping, I suppose.” 

“May  I have  the  trunk  and  the  odds  and  ends  in  it? 
They  can’t  be  much,  or  they  wouldn’t  be  put  off  there.” 

“We  will  go  and  see.”  Again  I took  the  kitchen  key 
and  the  trunk  key  as  well,  and  having  unlocked  both 
receptacles,  I told  Frances  to  turn  the  contents  of  the 
trunks  out  upon  the  floor.  When  she  saw  them  I noticed 
her  disappointment,  and  I told  her  to  remain  there  until 
I called  her.  I went  in  the  house  and  got  a pair  of 
sheets,  a pair  of  blankets,  a quilt,  several  dresses  and 
underclothing,  and  many  things  that  she  could  make  use- 
ful for  her  children,  and  put  them  together,  and  then 
called  her  and  told  her  to  take  them  and  put  them  in  the 
trunk. 

“Look  here,  Miss  Mary,  you  ain’t  going  to  give  me 
all  them  things,  is  you?” 


23S 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


“Yes ; put  them  in  the  trunk  and  lock  it.” 

A large  sack  of  apples,  a gift  also,  was  soon  gathered 
and  a boy  engaged  to  carry  it  and  the  trunk  over  to  the 
depot  in  a wheelbarrow.  Promptly  at  half-past  eleven 
o’clock  the  trunk  and  apples,  and  Frances  and  her  little 
boys,  were  on  the  way  to  the  depot,  en  route  to  Atlanta, 
their  future  home,  and  even  a synopsis  of  the  subsequent 
achievements  of  that  woman  and  her  unlettered  mother 
would  be  suggestive  to  Munchausen. 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


289 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

HOW  THE  DECATUR  WOMAN  KEPT  UP  THE  SABBATH 
SCHOOL. 

A Brief  Sketch  of  the  Old  Churches  and  the  Union  Sunday 
School — The  Resumption  of  Church  Services. 

Before  the  war  there  were  in  Decatur  but  two 
churches,  the  Methodist  and  the  Presbyterian ; although 
Baptist  and  Episcopal  services  were  occasionally  held. 
The  churches  first  mentioned  had  been  organized  about 
1825.  The  Presbyterians  first  worshipped  in  a log 
church,  and  afterwards  in  a frame  building,  but  in  1846 
had  erected  a substantial  brick  church.  In  this  building 
was  also  taught  the  Decatur  Union  Sabbath-school,  or- 
ganized in  1831,  and  for  twenty-five  years  preceding 
the  summer  of  1864  it  had  been  superintended  by  that 
godly  man,  Mr.  Levi  Willard. 

The  Federals  had  now  come  in.  The  church  had 
been  rifled  of  all  its  contents,  including  the  pews.  The 
faithful  Sunday-school  superintendent  with  his  lovely 
family  soon  after  went  away.  Being  nearer  to  our  house, 
I remember  more  about  the  dismantling  and  refurnish- 
ing of  the  Presbyterian  church  than  of  the  Methodist. 
So  far  as  can  be  ascertained,  the  last  sermon  at  the 
Presbyterian  church  had  been  preached  by  Rev.  James 


290 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


C.  Patterson,  who  was  then  living  at  Griffin,  but  was 
the  stated  supply  of  the  pulpit  here  at  that  time.  He 
will  be  remembered  as  a most  godly  man,  and  as  a sweet 
singer  of  sacred  songs. 

The  Sabbath  before  the  entrance  of  the  Federals,  no 
service  was  held  in  the  dear  old  church.  The  last  prayer 
service  had  been  held  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  led  by 
Mr.  Levi  Willard,  who  was  an  efficient  elder. 

In  July,  1864,  but  few  families  remained  in  Decatur; 
but  there  was  still  a goodly  number  of  children  and 
young  people  whose  training  must  not  be  neglected.  On 
the  southwest  corner  of  the  Courthouse  stood,  and  still 
stands,  a long,  narrow,  two-story  house.  The  lower  story 
was  occupied  as  a residence — the  upper  story,  for  many 
years  preceding  and  succeeding  these  times,  was  tire 
quarters  of  the  Masonic  Lodge.  In  the  ante-room  of 
this  lodge,  Miss  Lizzie  Mortin  taught  a day  school.  The 
first  story  of  the  building  was  now  occupied  by  the 
family  of  Mr.  John  M.  Hawkins.  Mr.  Hawkins  had  en- 
listed in  the  army  early  in  the  war,  but  for  some  reason 
had  returned  home  and  been  elected  clerk  of  the  court, 
which  position  he  held  until  forced  to  leave  before  the 
advancing  foe. 

Mrs.  Hawkins,  whose  maiden  name  was  Valeria  A. 
Perkins,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Reuben  Perkins  of  Frank- 
lin County,  gladly  opened  her  house  on  Sunday  mornings 
that  the  children  might  be  taught  in  the  Sacred  Scrip- 
tures. And  thus  a Sunday-school  was  begun,  and  Mrs. 
Hawkins  was  made  the  superintendent. 

Among  the  organizers  and  teachers  may  be  men- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


291 


tioned  Miss  Cynthia  Brown,  Mrs.  H.  H.  Olivers,  Mrs. 
Eddleman,  Miss  Lizzie  Morton,  and  Miss  Lizzie  Mc- 
Crary. Mr.  and  Mrs.  Buchanan,  Mrs.  Ammi  Williams, 
and  Mr.  Lred  Williams  acted  as  a sort  of  advisory  board. 
Rev.  Dr.  Holmes  and  Rev.  P.  F.  Hughes,  two  elderly 
Baptist  ministers,  sometimes  came;  and  Mr.  R.  J.  Cooper, 
a godly  layman,  came  a few  times. 

The  names  of  some  of  these  Sabbath-school  pupils 
can  yet  be  recalled : — Charley,  Guss  and  Lizzie  Hawkins ; 
their  cousins,  John,  Sam,  Ellen  and  Lizzie  Hawkins,  the 
children  of  Mr.  Sam  Hawkins,  who  is  still  living  in  Sum- 
merville, Georgia;  the  children  of  Mr.  R.  J.  Cooper,  and 
of  Mrs.  Eddleman,  Mrs.  Chivers,  and  of  Mr.  Ed  Mor- 
ton. There  were  others  whose  names  I can  not  re- 
call. 

The  number  of  pupils  increased  to  forty,  and  the 
school,  having  out-grown  its  quarters,  was  moved  to  the 
Court  House;  but  when  the  Federals  chose  to  occupy 
the  Court  House,  the  Sunday-school  was  moved  back  to 
Mrs.  Hawkins’s  home.  The  Bible  was  the  text-book ; 
for  there  were  no  Sunday-school  papers  or  song-books. 

Imagine  the  scene,  if  you  can.  Says  one  of  the  par- 
ticipants, who  was  then  a young  girl : “We  were  a 
peculiarly  dressed  lot.  I had  a stand-by  suit,  the  skirt 
made  of  a blanket  shawl ; with  this  I wore  one  of  my 
brother’s  white  shirts  and  a red  flannel  jacket.  I had 
grown  so  fast  that  I was  taller  than  my  mother,  and 
there  was  literally  nothing  large  enough  in  our  house  or 
circle  of  friends  to  make  a whole  suit.  One  of  the  la- 
dies wore  a gray  plaid  silk,  a pair  of  brown  jeans  shoes, 


292 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


and  a woven  straw  bonnet.  She  had  nothing  else  to 
wear.  Many  of  the  children  were  rigged  out  in  clothes 
made  from  thrown-away  uniforms,  picked  up,  washed 
and  cut  down  by  the  mothers.” 

Mrs.  Hawkins  is  still  living  near  Decatur.  She  re- 
members that  on  several  occasions  the  soldiers  came 
in  while  the  school  was  in  session,  much  to  the  demor- 
alizing of  good  order  and  comfort  of  mind.  On  one 
occasion  the  raiders  piled  barrels  one  on  top  of  another, 
near  the  house,  and  set  them  afire,  frightening  the  chil- 
dren very  much. 

When  the  war  was  over,  the  refugees  began  to  re- 
turn. Among  the  first  were  the  families  of  Mr.  J.  W. 
Kirkpatrick,)  Mr.  Ezekiel  Mason,  Captain  Milton  A. 
Candler,  Dr.  W.  W.  Durham,  Dr.  P.  F.  Hoyle,  Mrs. 
Jane  Morgan,  Mrs.  Cynthia  Stone,  Mr.  James  Winn, 
Mr.  Benjamin  Swanton,  Mr.  Jonathan  Wilson,  and  Mr. 
J.  N.  Pate.  But,  alas ! our  faithful  old  Sunday-school 
superintendent  and  his  family  returned  not,  but  remained 
in  Springfield,  Ohio,  with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Josiah 
J.  Willard,  who  afterwards  married  Miss  Jessie  Candler, 
a sister  of  Captain  Candler. 

These  returning  refugees  were  devoted  to  the  Sunday- 
school.  Mr.  John  C.  Kirkpatrick,  just  from  the  war, 
and  scarce  twenty-one,  undertook  the  task  of  re-seating 
the  Presbyterian  church.  He  went  out  to  a saw-mill 
and  had  puncheons  sawed  and  carried  to  Mr.  Kirk- 
patrick’s cabinet  shop,  where  they  were  fashioned  into 
temporary  seats.  These  were  placed  in  the  church,  and 
it  was  once  more  opened  for  the  exercises  of  the  union 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


293 


Sunday-school,  and  also  for  divine  worship.  Who  con- 
ducted those  exercises,  I can  find  no  one  who  now  re- 
members. My  mother  had  been  stricken  in  July,  1865, 
with  paralysis,  which  confined  her  to  her  bed  for  many 
weeks.  It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  her  daughters 
could  leave  her ; so  that  neither  one  of  them  can  recollect 
these  sessions  of  the  resumed  Sabbath-school. 

There  lies  before  me  “the  Sunday-school  register  and 
minute-book  of  1866,”  kindly  furnished  for  inspection 
by  Mr.  Hiram  J.  Williams,  who  had  from  early  youth 
been  constantly  identified  with  the  Sunday-school  and 
church.  The  superintendent  was  Mr.  Ben  T.  Hunter; 
the  librarian,  Mr.  John  C.  Kirkpatrick;  the  treasurer,  Mr. 
John  J.  McKoy.  Mr.  Kirkpatrick  removed  to  Atlanta 
in  the  August  of  that  year,  and  Mr.  Josiah  Willard  was 
elected  to  fill  his  place,  but  resigned  in  December  to  go  on 
to  Ohio,  from  whence  he  soon  returned,  and  died  a few 
years  ago  in  Atlanta. 

But  I must  not  forget  that  I am  not  writing  a history 
of  the  Sabbath-school,  yet  I can  not  leave  the  theme  with- 
out mentioning  the  fact  that  all  the  faithful  ones  who 
had  taught  in  the  stormy  days  of  war  still  came  in  time 
of  peace,  and  many  others  whose  hearts  had  not  grown 
cold  by  their  enforced  absence.  Let  me  mention  the 
teachers : Mr.  J.  W.  Kirkpatrick,  Dr.  P.  F.  Hoyle,  Rev. 
A.  T.  Holmes,  Mr.  W.  W.  Brimm,  Captain  Milton  A. 
Candler,  Mr.  G.  A.  Ramspeck*,  Dr.  John  L.  Hardeman, 
Mr.  H.  H.  Puckett,  Mr.  W.  A.  Moore  (afterwards  a 

’This  gentleman,  -who  married  sweet  Maggie  Morgan  (the  sister  of  Dewitt 
and  Billy),  has  now  been  Sunday-school  treasurer  for  twenty-seven  years. 


294 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


superintendent),  Miss  Cynthia  Brown,  Mrs.  H.  H. 
Olivers,  Mrs.  Eddleman,  Mrs.  Catharine  Winn,  Mrs. 
Jane  Morgan,  Miss  Lizzie  Swanton,  Mrs.  E.  A.  Mason, 
Mrs.  Valeria  A.  Hawkins,  Mrs.  J.  J.  McKoy  and  Miss 
Lee  More.  Miss  M.  H.  Stokes  had  been  appointed  one 
of  the  teachers  but  her  mother’s  feeble  health,  and  the 
great  shock  consequent  upon  her  death,  prevented  this 
teacher  from  attending  that  year  with  regularity. 

Among  the  names  of  “visitors”  we  notice  those  of 
Mr.  Bryce,  Rev.  P.  F.  Hughes,  Mr.  Cooper,  and  Mr. 
L.  J.  Winn. 

The  re-opening  of  the  Sabbath-school  at  the  old  church 
was  doubtless  a great  blessing  to  many.  To  one  young 
man  the  joining  of  that  school,  and  the  acceptance  of  a 
teacher’s  place,  meant  the  first  public  step  to  a profession 
of  faith  in  Christ.  Captain  Milton  A.  Candler  was  the 
child  of  pious  parents,  but  so  far  as  be  knew,  was  at  this 
time  an  unconverted  man.  He  reluctantly  and  with  great 
diffidence  accepted  a teacher’s  place.  Said  he  quite  rev- 
erently : “I  attribute  my  subsequent  union  with  the 
church  to  the  study  of  the  Bible  which  I made  while 
teaching  a class  of  little  boys,  Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  in 
the  old  church  with  its  puncheon  seats.  I taught  my 
pupils,  a class  of  little  boys,  to  read  from  ‘the  blue-back 
speller,’  and,  when  that  lesson  was  over,  read  to  them 
from  the  Bible,  explaining  it  to  them  as  best  I could 
in  all  humility.”  In  a few  years  he  made  a public  pro- 
fession of  his  faith  in  Christ,  and  was  elected  to  the  super- 
intendency of  the  Sabbath-school,  (which  office  he  still 
holds),  and  has  labored  for  its  interests  with  a love 
and  an  unflagging  zeal  rarely  ever  equalled. 

How  sweet  were  the  voices  of  many  of  the  teachers 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


295 


and  pupils!  John  C.  Kirkpatrick  sang  a fine  tenor;  and 
clear  and  soft  and  true  were  the  tones  of  Josiah  Willard, 
sweet  as  the  lovely  character  of  this  sainted  one.  All 
who  knew  Rev.  J.  D.  Burkhead  remember  his  singing, 
and  he  often  led  the  music.  A little  later  came  Mrs. 
Mary  Jane  Wood  with  her  magnificent  voice,  and  the 
grand  bass  of  Joseph  Morgan,  the  son  of  one  of  the  pio- 
neer teachers,  Mrs.  Martha  Morgan.  From  this  Sunday- 
school,  and  from  its  ex-Confederate  soldiers,  there  went 
into  the  ministry  W.  W.  Brimm,  Paul  P.  Winn  and  Sam 
K.  Winn.  Promoted  to  the  Glory  Land  long  ago  was 
Mrs.  Jane  Morgan ; and,  more  recently,  Mrs.  Catherine 
Winn. 

In  the  summer  of  1866,  a Sabbath-school  was  organ- 
ized at  the  Methodist  church,  which,  while  a step  in  the 
right  direction,  was  the  sundering,  in  one  sense,  of  ties 
that  were  very  dear. 

I can  not  ascertain  when  the  first  sermon  was 
preached  in  the  church  after  the  war,  but  think  it  must 
have  been  in  August,  as  there  is  this  entry  in  the  journal 
of  my  sister,  Miss  Stokes,  already  quoted  from  in  a for- 
mer part  of  this  volume : “Sunday,  August  27th,  1865. — 
Dr.  Holmes  preached  in  the  Presbyterian  church,  which 
has  been  re-opened  for  divine  service,  being  furnished 
with  puncheon  seats  without  backs.  There  are  a few 
benches  with  backs.  Next  Sabbath,  Dr.  Wilson  will  ad- 
minister the  communion  of  the  Lord’s  Supper.”  This 
was  done  at  the  time  appointed — the  first  communion 
held  in  the  church  after  the  war.  (The  Dr.  Wilson  re- 
ferred to  was  the  venerable  Rev.  John  S.  Wilson,  D.D., 
who  had  organized  the  church  forty  years  before.) 

So  far  as  is  known,  the  only  part  of  the  former  church 


296 


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furnishings  that  ever  reappeared  was  the  melodeon  (or 
“seraphine”),  which  Rosella  Stone,  a negro  woman,  had 
preserved.  She  must  have  done  this  for  the  sake  of 
Miss  Marian  Stone,  who  had  formerly  played  it  in 
church,  and  who,  if  I remember  aright,  played  it  again 
after  the  resumption  of  church  services. 

In  the  winter  of  1865  and  1866,  there  was  preaching 
for  a short  while  by  the  Rev.  Theodore  Smith.  Then 
followed  Rev.  J.  D.  Burkhead,  and  under  his  preaching, 
in  the  early  spring,  there  occurred  a protracted  meeting, 
at  which  many  persons  were  added  to  the  church. 

Gladly  would  I recall,  if  I could,  the  preachers  who 
supplied  the  Methodist  church  at  that  time,  but  my  mem- 
ory fails  me  as  to  the  exact  details.  I believe,  however, 
that  the  Rev.  William  Henry  Clarke,  referred  to  in  a 
preceding  sketch,  was  the  first  Methodist  minister  who 
preached  there  after  the  war ; and  that  Rev.  Mr.  Morgan 
and  Rev.  William  A.  Dodge  were  the  first  ministers  in 
charge  appointed  by  Conference. 

In  ante-bellum  times,  on  many  of  the  large  planta- 
tions, special  services  were  held  for  the  negroes — some 
planters  paying  a regular  salary  for  this  purpose.  In 
pious  families,  members  of  the  household  often  taught 
the  slaves,  especially  the  house  servants,  the  Bible  and 
Catechism.  So  far  as  I can  recollect,  certain  seats  were 
assigned  to  them  in  all  churches  at  all  services,  besides 
the  special  services  usually  held  for  them  on  Sabbath  af- 
ternoons. 

After  the  war,  the  negroes  of  Decatur  and  surround- 
ing country  were  organized  into  a Sabbath-school  at  the 
Presbyterian  Church.  They  came  in  large  numbers,  and 
were  faithfully  taught  by  the  people  of  Decatur.  To  the 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


297 


kind  courtesy  of  Mr.  George  A.  Ramspeck  I am  in- 
debted for  the  loan  of  the  Minute-book  of  this  school, 
which  seems  to  have  been  organized  in  1867.  The  pas- 
tor was  the  superintendent.  The  vice-superintendent 
was  Mr.  Samuel  K.  Winn ; the  treasurer,  Mr.  George 
A.  Ramspeck,  and  the  librarian,  Mr.  Moses  S.  Brown. 
But  after  several  months  the  negroes  went  off  to  them- 
selves, and  eventually  founded  the  African  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church.  They  have  also  a Baptist  Church.  In 
these  undertakings  they  were  assisted  by  the  people  of 
the  village. 


298 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

POSTAL  AFFAIRS. 

The  Postmaster,  Hiram  J.  Williams — A life  that  was  a reality, 
but  reads  like  a romance. 

The  north  side  of  the  court-house  square  at  Deca- 
tur is  intersected  by  a public  road  leading  to  North 
Decatur,  Silver  Lake,  the  Chattahoochee  River,  and 
points  beyond.  On  the  eastern  corner  of  this  intersec- 
tion stands  the  well-known  Bradbury  House.  The  house 
itself  is  an  unsightly  object,  being  almost  untenable 
through  age  and  neglect,  but  occupying  a most  desirable 
location.  From  its  site  lovely  views  of  the  surround- 
ing country  may  be  obtained,  as  the  eye  sweeps  the  circle 
of  the  horizon  which  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  distant 
hills,  and  on  the  northwest  by  the  blue  peaks  of  the  Ken- 
nesaw.  In  the  west  is  a near-by  plateau,  crowned  with 
oaks  and  pines,  beautiful  in  the  morning  when  covered 
with  a filmy  mantle  of  faint  purple  mist — gorgeous  at 
evening,  when  overhung  by  sunset  clouds. 

In  i860  the  lower  part  of  the  Bradbury  House  was 
occupied  as  a store  and  post-office,  the  proprietor  and 
postmaster  being  Mr.  William  Bradbury.  His  assistant 
was  Hiram  J.  Williams,  then  a lad  of  fourteen  years. 
When  Mr.  Bradbury  enlisted  in  the  DeKalb  Light  In- 
fantry in  1861,  Hiram  became  in  reality  the  postmaster. 
At  that  early  age  he  manifested  the  same  traits  which 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


299 


have  characterized  him  to  this  day — unwearied  attention 
to  the  business  before  him,  unvarying  courtesy,  beauti- 
ful modesty,  calm  unbroken  serenity  of  manner,  and  an 
unswerving  honesty. 

During  the  four  years  of  the  war,  the  mail  received 
and  sent  out  from  Decatur  was  enormous  in  its  quantity, 
and  all  the  while  it  was  handled  by  this  youth ; for  when, 
in  1862,  Mr.  Bradbury  resigned  and  Mr.  John  N.  Pate 
was  appointed  postmaster  in  his  place,  Hiram  Williams 
was  retained  in  the  office.  Mr.  Pate  simply  bringing  over 
the  mail  from  the  depot.  So  great  was  the  quantity  of 
mail  matter  that  sometimes  Hiram  had  to  call  to  his  as- 
sistance his  young  friend,  John  Bowie. 

During  those  war  years,  there  were  but  few  post- 
offices  in  DeKalb  County,  and  the  people  for  miles  around 
had  their  mail  sent  to  Decatur.  The  soldiers,  unless 
writing  to  young  ladies,  rarely  ever  paid  postage  on  their 
letters,  but  left  it  to  be  done  by  their  home  folks.  This 
unpaid  postage  had  to  be  collected  and  kept  account  of. 
Often  a poor  wife  or  mother,  after  trudging  weary  miles 
to  the  post-office,  would  receive  a letter  from  husband 
or  son,  and,  unwilling  to  return  without  answering  it, 
would  request  Hiram  to  answer  it  for  her,  which  he  al- 
ways did.  With  every  package  of  letters  sent  out,  a way- 
bill had  to  go,  showing  the  number  of  letters,  how  many 
were  prepaid,  how  many  unpaid,  etc.,  etc.  Imagine  the 
work  thus  entailed ! Imagine  the  great  responsibility ! 
Imagine  the  youth  who  bore  this  labor  and  responsibility 
for  four  years ! Small  of  statue,  quiet  in  manner,  but 
with  an  undaunted  spirit  looking  out  from  his  steady 
but  softly  bright  brown  eyes.  How  brave  he  must  have 


300 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


been,  and  how  his  good  widowed  mother  and  only  sister 
must  have  doted  on  him. 

In  July,  1864,  when  the  booming  of  the  Federal  guns 
is  heard  from  the  banks  of  the  Chattahoochee,  the  post- 
office  is  closed  and  for  several  months  thereafter  letters, 
if  sent  for  at  all,  are  sent  by  hand. 

Our  brave  little  postmaster  now  hies  him  away  to 
Augusta,  and  there  acts  as  mailing  clerk  for  “The  Con- 
stitutionalist,” and,  after  the  surrender,  for  “The  Even- 
ing Transcript.”  In  1866  he  returns  to  Decatur  and 
engages  in  mercantile  business  with  Willard  and  McKoy, 
but  soon  after  opens  a store  of  his  own. 

Early  in  1867,  Mr.  Williams,  now  arrived  at  the  age 
of  twenty-one,  is  appointed  postmaster  at  Decatur  by 
Samuel  W.  Randall,  postmaster-general  of  the  United 
States  Government.  In  1869  Mr.  Williams  was  elected 
clerk  of  the  Superior  Court  of  DeKalb  County,  still  re- 
taining the  office  of  postmaster,  but  having  an  assistant 
in  each  position. 

In  1871,  he  was  re-elected  clerk  of  the  court,  and 
again  in  1873.  All  this  time  he  continued  to  be  post- 
master, and  was  re-commissioned  by  Postmaster-General 
Jewell  in  1875,  holding  the  office  up  to  1880. 

Mr.  Williams  continued  to  be  Clerk  of  the  Superior 
Court  until  1884,  when  Mr.  Robert  Russell,  a Confed- 
erate veteran,  was  elected.  Mr.  Williams  then  returned 
for  a while  to  mercantile  pursuits.  But  while  pursuing 
the  even  tenor  of  his  way,  was  called  to  a responsible 
position  in  Atlanta  (which  he  still  holds)  with  the  G.  W. 
Scott  Manufacturing  Company,  now  known  as  the  South- 
ern Fertilizer  Company. 

From  1870  to  1886,  Mr.  Williams  was  a special  cor- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


301 


respondent  of  “The  Atlanta  Constitution,”  thus  preserv- 
ing the  history  of  Decatur  and  of  DeKalb  County  during 
that  period. 

So  much  for  a business  career  of  remarkable  success. 
But  is  this  all?  What  of  the  higher  and  nobler  life? 
This  has  not  been  neglected.  In  1866  Mr.  Williams 
united  with  the  Decatur  Presbyterian  Church.  In  1868 
he  was  appointed  librarian  of  the  Sabbath-school,  an  of- 
fice he  still  holds.  In  1894  he  was  elected  to  the  office  of 
deacon,  and  also  appointed  church  treasurer.  When  the 
Agnes  Scott  Institute,  for  girls,  was  founded  in  1891,  he 
was  made  secretary  and  treasurer. 

Mr.  Williams  has  been  twjce  married — in  his  early 
manhood  to  Miss  Jennie  Hughes,  who  lived  but  a short 
while.  His  present  wife  was  Miss  Belle  Steward,  who 
has  been  a true  helpmeet.  They  have  a lovely  and  hos- 
pitable home  on  Sycamore  Street,  where  her  sweet  face, 
ever  beaming  with  cheerfulness  and  loving  kindness  and 
sympathy  for  all,  must  be  to  him  as  a guiding  star  to  lead 
and  bless  him  with  its  light,  as  he  returns  at  evening 
from  the  city  and  its  business  cares  and  toils,  to  the 
rest  and  peace  of  home. 

If  any  one  should  say  that  this  is  not  strictly  a 
war  sketch,  I would  reply,  “no,  but  who  could  resist  fol- 
lowing up  at  least  the  salient  points  of  such  a life — a 
life  that  exemplifies  the  main  elements  of  success.”  Dear 
young  readers,  have  you  not  seen  what  they  are : — perse- 
verance, fidelity  to  trusts  reposed,  punctuality,  courtesy, 
honesty  and  conscientiousness — in  other  words,  adher- 
ence to  right  principles  and  to  Christian  duty. 


302 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  TRAGIC  DEATH  OF  SALLIE  DURHAM. 

The  closing  days  of  the  war. — A sketch  of  the  Durham  family 
— The  death  of  Sallie. 

On  the  9th  of  April,  1865,  Appomattox  Court 
House,  Lee  had  surrendered  his  army  of  twenty-five  thou- 
sand men  to  Grant  with  his  four-fold  forces.  One  after 
another  the  Confederate  generals  had  been  forced  to  yield 
to  superior  numbers,  and  by  the  last  of  May  the  war  was 
over. 

“The  North  had  at  the  beginning  of  the  strife  a 
population  of  twenty-two  millions ; the  South  had  ten 
millions,  four  millions  of  whom  were  slaves.  The  North 
had  enlisted  during  the  war  two  million  six  hundred 
thousand  troops — the  South  a little  more  than  six  hun- 
dred thousand.  Now  the  North  had  a million  men  to 
send  home — the  South  but  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand.” 

Jefferson  Davis  had  been  captured,  and  imprisoned 
in  Fortress  Monroe.  Our  worn  and  ragged  soldiers  had 
returned  to  a devastated  country.  Our  entire  people 
were  to  begin  life  over  again  in  the  midst  of  poverty, 
uncertainty,  and  under  the  watchful  eye  of  the  con- 
queror. The  war  was  over,  but  military  rule  was  not. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


303 


It  was  in  these  transition  days,  between  the  fall  of 
“the  Lost  Cause”  and  the  more  stirring  events  of  “Re- 
construction,” that  there  occurred  in  our  little  village  a 
most  appalling  tragedy.  To  understand  it  fully,  my 
readers  should  know  something  of  the  young  lady’s  fam- 
ily. Let  us  pause  here  and  take  a backward  glance. 

About  a hundred  years  ago  Lindsey  Durham,  a Geor- 
gia boy  of  English  descent,  graduated  from  a Philadelphia 
Medical  College,  and  located  in  Clarke  County,  in  his 
native  State.  Drugs  were  expensive,  as  they  could  not 
be  obtained  nearer  than  Savannah,  Charleston  or  New 
York.  Being  surrounded  by  frontiersmen  and  Indians, 
he  could  but  notice  the  efficacy  of  the  native  barks  and 
roots  used  by  them  as  medicines.  He  was  thus  led  to 
adopt  to  a large  extent  the  theories  of  the  Botanic  School. 
He  began  to  cultivate  his  own  medicinal  plants,  and 
to  prosecute  with  much  zeal  his  botanical  studies  and 
researches.  He  even  went  to  Europe  and  procured  seeds 
and  plants  of  medicinal  value,  and  finally  his  garden 
of  medicinal  herbs  and  plants  contained  thirteen  acres. 
So  great  was  his  fame  that  patients  began  to  come  to 
him  from  adjoining  States,  and  he  had  to  build  cottag'es 
on  his  plantation  in  order  to  entertain  them.  His  mar- 
vellous success  brought  to  him  ample  compensation.  He 
became  a millionaire,  and  lived  in  all  the  old-time  splen- 
dor. Once,  by  a loan  of  money,  he  rescued  the  Athens 
Bank  from  utter  failure. 

Dr.  Lindsey  Durham  left  several  sons,  all  of  whom 
were  physicians.  The  eldest  of  these,  and  the  most  emi- 
nent, was  Dr.  William  W.  Durham,  who  was  born  on  his 


304 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


father’s  plantation  in  Clarke  County,  in  1823.  After  a 
collegiate  course  at  Mercer  University,  he  graduated 
from  the  Jefferson  Medical  College  of  Philadelphia,  tak- 
ing high  honors,  spending  five  years  in  the  hospital  there, 
and  perfecting  himself  in  surgery.  This  talented  gentle- 
man married  Miss  Sarah  Lowe,  of  Clarke  County,  and, 
four  years  after  her  death,  he  married  Mrs.  Georgia  A. 
Allen,  whose  maiden  name  was  Wood,  and  who  was  a 
native  of  Franklin,  Georgia. 

With  the  children  of  his  first  marriage  and  their  fair 
young  step-mother,  Dr.  Durham  came  to  Decatur  in 
1859.  Well  do  I remember  the  children ; two  handsome 
sons,  John  and  William — two  pretty  brown-eyed  girls, 
Sarah  and  Catherine.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  a large 
practice  awaited  the  skillful  physician,  whose  eclectic 
methods  were  then  comparatively  new. 

William,  the  eldest  son,  went  into  the  Confederate 
service  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  remaining  the  entire  four 
years,  suffering  severely  at  the  siege  of  Vicksburg,  fight- 
ing valiantly  at  the  Battle  of  Atlanta,  and  coming  out 
of  the  war  the  shadow  of  his  former  self,  with  nothing 
but  an  old  army  mule  and  one  silver  dollar. 

Sarah  Durham,  called  Sallie  by  her  family  and 
friends,  was  a lovely  girl  of  seventeen.  She  was  tall 
and  graceful ; bright,  and  full  of  enthusiasm ; kind,  lov- 
ing and  generous.  She  had  just  returned  from  her 
grandmother’s  plantation,  for  her  father  had  not  sooner 
dared  to  have  his  daughters  return,  such  was  the  in- 
solence of  the  straggling  Federals. 

On  the  morning  of  September  1st,  1865,  this  dear  girl 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


305 


arose  early  and  noiselessly  with  a scheme  in  her  kind 
heart.  The  former  servants  were  all  gone ; her  mother 
was  not  well,  and  she  would  surprise  the  household  by 
preparing  for  them  a nice  breakfast.  In  fancy  we  see 
her,  as  she  treads  lightly,  and  chats  softly  with  her 
tiny  half-sister  Jennie,  and  with  a little  negro  girl  who 
in  some  way  had  remained  with  the  family. 

The  Durham  residence,  which  was  on  Sycamore 
Street,  then  stood  just  eastward  of  where  Col.  G.  W. 
Scott  now  lives.  The  rear  of  the  house  faced  the  site 
where  the  depot  had  been  before  it  was  burned  by  the 
Federals,  the  distance  being  about  350  yards.  Hearing 
an  incoming  train,  Sallie  went  to  the  dining-room  win- 
dow to  look  at  the  cars,  as  she  had  learned  in  some  way 
that  they  contained  Federal  troops.  While  standing  at 
the  window  resting  against  the  sash,  she  was  struck  by  a 
bullet  fired  from  the  train.  (It  was  afterwards  learned 
that  the  cars  were  filled  with  negro  troops  on  their  way 
to  Savannah,  who  were  firing  off  their  guns  in  a random, 
reckless  manner.)  The  ball  entered  the  left  breast  of 
this  dear  young  girl,  ranging  obliquely  downward,  com- 
ing out  just  below  the  waist,  and  lodging  in  the  door  of 
a safe,  or  cupboard,  which  stood  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room.  (This  old  safe,  with  the  mark  of  the  ball, 
is  still  in  the  village.) 

The  wounded  girl  fell,  striking  her  head  against  the 
dining  table,  but  arose,  and  walking  up  a long  hall  she 
threw  open  the  door  of  her  father’s  room,  calling  to  him 
in  a voice  of  distress.  Springing  from  bed,  he  said : 

“What  is  it,  my  child?” 


306 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


“Oh,  father,”  she  exclaimed,  “the  Yankees  have 
killed  me  !” 

Laying  her  upon  a small  bed  in  the  room,  her  father 
cut  away  from  her  chest  her  homespun  dress  and  made 
a hasty  examination  of  the  wound.  Her  horror-stricken 
mother  remembers  to  this  day  that  awful  scene  in  all  its 
details.  But  we  will  draw  a veil  over  the  grief  of  the 
smitten  family,  as  they  stood  half  paralyzed  at  this  sud- 
den calamity,  and  looked  upon  the  loved  one  whom  they 
were  helpless  to  save.  Mrs.  Durham  recalls  the  fact 
that  the  first  person  who  came  in  was  Rev.  Dr.  Holmes, 
and  that  throughout  this  great  trial  he  and  his  family 
were  very  sympathetic  and  helpful. 

Every  physician  in  the  village  and  city,  and  her 
father’s  three,  brothers  were  summoned,  but  nothing 
could  be  done  except  to  alleviate  her  sufferings.  She 
could  lie  only  on  her  right  side,  with  her  left  arm  in  a 
sling  suspended  from  the  ceiling.  Every  attention  was 
given  by  relatives  and  friends.  Her  grandmother  Dur- 
ham came  and  brought  with  her  the  old  family  trained 
nurse.  Sallie’s  schoolmates  and  friends  were  untiring 
in  their  attentions.  Some  names  that  have  appeared  in 
previous  sketches,  will  now  appear  again,  for  they 
watched  with  anxious,  loving  hearts  by  the  couch  where 
the  young  sufferer  lay.  Tenderly  let  us  mention  their 
names,  as  we  tread  softly  in  memory’s  sacred  halls. 
Among  the  constant  attendants  at  her  bedside  were  Mrs. 
Martha  Morgan,  Mrs.  Hughes,  Mrs.  Morton,  Miss  Laura 
Williams  (Mrs.  J.  J.  McKoy),  Lizzie  and  Anna  Morton, 
Mrs.  H.  H.  Chivers,  Dr.  Jim  Brown  and  John  Harde- 
man. During  the  week  that  her  life  slowly  ebbed  away, 
there  was  another  who  ever  lingered  near  her,  a sleep- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


307 


less  and  tireless  watcher,  a young  man  of  a well-known 
family,  to  whom  this  sweet  young  girl  was  engaged  to 
be  married. 

Writes  Mrs.  P.  W.  Corr,  of  Hampton,  Florida,  (for- 
merly Miss  Lizzie  Morton)  : “Never  can  I forget  the 
drear}’  night  when  Willie  Durham,  Kitty  Durham  and 
Warren  Morton  left  Decatur  with  Sallie’s  body,  which 
was  to  be  buried  in  the  old  family  cemetery  in  Clarke 
County.  Mrs.  Durham,  who  was  in  delicate  health,  was 
utterly  prostrated,  and  the  doctor  could  not  leave  her.” 
So  Dr.  Charles  Durham  managed  the  funeral  arrange- 
ments, chartering  the  car,  and  Sallie  was  buried  from 
the  old  church  her  grandfather  Lowe  had  built  on  his 
own  plantation  in  Clarke  County,  and  laid  to  rest  in  the 
Durham  cemetery  near  by. 

Sallie  was  shot  on  Friday  at  7:30  a.  m.,  and  died  the 
following  Friday  at  3 130  a.  m.  While  she  had  suffered 
untold  agony,  she  was  conscious  to  the  last.  Through- 
out her  illness  she  manifested  a thoughtful  considera- 
tion for  the  comfort  of  others.  Especially  did  she  show 
tender  solicitude  for  her  step-mother,  insisting  that  she 
should  not  fatigue  herself.  While  anxious  to  live,  she 
said  she  was  not  afraid  to  die.  In  her  closing  hours  she 
told  her  friends  that  she  saw  her  own  mother,  her 
grandfather  Durham,  and  her  uncle  Henry  Durham 
(who  had  died  in  the  Confederate  service),  all  of  whom 
she  expected  to  meet  in  the  bright  beyond. 

General  Stephenson  was  in  command  of  the  Federal 
Post  at  Atlanta.  He  was  notified  of  this  tragedy,  and 
sent  an  officer  to  investigate.  This  officer  refused  to 
take  anybody’s  word  that  Sallie  had  been  shot  by  a 
United  States  soldier  from  the  train ; but,  dressed  in  full 


308 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


uniform,  with  spur  and  sabre  rattling  upon  the  bare 
floor,  he  advanced  to  the  bed  where  the  dying  girl  lay, 
and  threw  back  the  covering  “to  see  if  she  had  really 
been  shot.”  This  intrusion  almost  threw  her  into  a 
spasm.  This  officer  and  the  others  at  Atlanta  promised 
to  do  all  in  their  power  to  bring  the  guilty  party  to 
justice,  but  nothing  ever  came  of  the  promise,  so  far 
as  we  know. 

As  a singular  coincidence,  as  well  as  an  illustration 
of  the  lovely  character  of  Sallie,  I will  relate  a brief 
incident  given  by  the  gifted  pen  already  quoted  from : 
“One  of  the  most  vivid  pictures  of  the  past  in  my 
memory  is  that  of  Salle  Durham  emptying  her  pail  of 
blackberries  into  the  hands  of  Federal  prisoners  on  a 
train  that  had  just  stopped  for  a moment  at  Decatur, 
in  1863.  We  had  all  been  gathering  berries  at  Moss’s 
Hill,  and  stopped  on  our  way  home  for  the  train  to 
pass.” 

Dr.  W.  W.  Durham  lived  for  nearly  twenty  years 
after  Sallie’s  death.  During  the  war  he  had  enlisted 
as  a soldier,  but  was  commissioned  by  Dr.  George  S. 
Blackie,  a Medical  Director  in  the  Western  Division 
of  the  Confederate  Army,  to  the  position  of  Inspector 
of  Medicines  for  the  Fifth  Depot.  This  position  was 
given  him  because  of  his  remarkable  botanical  knowl- 
edge and  power  of  identifying  medicines.  After  the 
war  he  was  prominent  in  the  reorganization  of  the 
Georgia  Medical  Eclectic  College,  but  refused  to  take  a 
professorship  on  account  of  an  almost  overwhelming 
practice.  He  was  a quiet,  earnest,  thoughtful  man ; and 
highly  sympathetic  and  benevolent  in  his  disposition. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


309 


His  widow,  Mrs.  Georgia  A.  Durham,  and  their  daugh- 
ter, Mrs.  Jennie  Findley,  still  reside  in  Decatur. 

Dr.  W.  M.  Durham  is  a successful  physician  in 
Atlanta.  He  holds  a professorship  in  the  Georgia  Ec- 
lectic Medical  College,  and  edits  the  Georgia  Eclectic 
Medical  Journal.  Kitty  is  Mrs.  W.  P.  Smith,  of  Max- 
ey’s;  and  John  L.  Durham  is  a physician  with  a large 
practice,  and  a large  family,  living  at  Woodville,  Geor- 
gia. 

The  Durham  residence  still  stands  in  Decatur, 
though  not  upon  the  same  spot.  For  years  a great  stain 
of  blood  remained  upon  the  floor,  as  a grim  and  silent 
reminder  of  this  most  awful  tragedy  which  so  closely 
followed  the  horrible  and  cruel  war. 


310 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  DEATH  OF  MELVILLE  CLARK. 

The  lamented  death  of  Miss  Durham  was  not  the 
only  one  in  our  community  to  be  traced  to  the  results 
of  the  war. 

The  period  of  reconstruction,  forcing  upon  the  South- 
ern States  the  obnoxious  Fourteenth  Amendment,  so 
humiliating  and  so  unjust,  especially  at  that  time,  had 
intensified  the  prejudices  of  the  negroes  against  the  white 
people — prejudices  already  sufficiently  aroused  by  pre- 
vious abolition  teachings  and  the  results  of  the  war. 

Several  times  in  this  little  volume  mention  has  been 
made  of  Rev.  William  Henry  Clarke,  the  staunch  patriot 
and  well  known  Methodist  preacher.  At  this  period 
he  had  become  a resident  of  Decatur.  His  son,  Mel- 
ville Clarke,  a noble,  promising  boy,  while  attempting 
to  rescue  a small  white  child  from  the  abuse  of  an  over- 
grown negro  youth,  received  wounds  from  which  he 
died.  Memory  recalls  many  other  instances  of  like 
character,  perpetrated  at  this  period,  the  most  disgrace- 
ful in  the  annals  of  American  history. 

The  subjoined  resolutions,  passed  by  the  Methodist 
Sabbath-school,  of  which  Melville  was  a beloved  scholar, 
attest  the  many  good  traits  of  his  character,  and  the 
affection  accorded  him  in  the  community : 

“The  committee  appointed  to  draft  resolutions  on 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


311 


the  death  of  Melville  Clarke,  one  of  our  scholars,  beg 
leave  to  submit  the  following: 

“In  the  wise  dispensation  of  Him  that  doeth  all 
things  well,  we  are  called  to  pay  the  last  tribute  to  de- 
parted worth.  Melville  Clarke  is  no  more.  The  vacant 
seat  says  he  is  no  more.  The  hushed  voice  says  he  is 
no  more.  Yes,  the  impressive,  solemn  silence  of  this 
moment  whispers  that  another  light  which  shone  brightly 
the  brief  space  allotted  it  here  has  flickered  out.  The 
body  which  encased  the  spirit  of  the  noble  Christian 
boy  has  been  laid  away  in  the  silence  of  the  grave, 
and  his  spirit,  as  we  trust,  escorted  by  a convoy  of 
angels,  has  gone  to  that  bright  and  better  world  above. 

“ Therefore , Resolved,  That  as  we  gather  around  the 
new-made  grave  and  drop  a sympathetic  tear  (which 
speaks  more  eloquently  than  any  words  mortal  lips  can 
utter),  we  deeply  feel  the  loss  of  one  so  full  of  promise 
and  usefulness — that  noble  spirit  just  bursting  into 
manhood,  with  a mind  that  would  grasp  in  a moment 
things  that  men  have  passed  through  life  and  never 
comprehended — and  a heart  lit  up  with  the  love  of  God, 
and  drawn  out  by  the  tenderest  cords  of  affection  to  do 
little  acts  of  kindness.  Language  fails  us  to  give  ut- 
terance to  the  anguish  we  feel  at  sustaining  so  great 
a loss.  But  he  has  gone.  No  more  shall  we  hang  upon 
the  eloquence  of  his  gentle,  kind  words,  or  see  that  face 
which  was  so  often  lit  up  with  an  expressive  sweetness 
that  we  could  but  recognize  as  the  reflex  of  the  lamb- 
like Christian  spirit  that  reigned  within.  He  has  gone, 
and  as  we  turn  from  the  sad,  solemn  scene  in  that  faith 
which  ‘hopeth  all  things,  believeth  all  things,  endureth 


312 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


all  things,’  we  can  but  exclaim : ‘The  Lord  gave — the 
Lord  hath  taken  away — blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  !v 

“Resolved,  That  in  the  death  of  one  of  our  members, 
so  young,  we  recognize  an  admonition  that  the  young, 
as  well  as  the  old,  are  swiftly  passing  away,  and  that 
we  should  pause  and  reflect  seriously  upon  this  important 
subject. 

“Resolved,  That  as  a school,  our  warmest  sympathy 
and  condolence  be  tendered  to  the  family  of  our  dear 
deceased  friend  in  this,  their  great  bereavement,  and 
that  a copy  of  these  resolutions  be  furnished  them.” 


Committee. 


August  30th,  1868. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


313 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE  MORTON  FAMILY. 

Incidents  thrilling  and  affecting. 

In  several  previous  sketches  references  have  been 
made  to  the  Misses  Morton.  Not  only  they,  but  the 
whole  family,  bore  an  interesting  and  heroic  part  in  the 
scenes  of  the  war.  Mr.  Edward  L.  Morton  hoisted  the 
first  Confederate  Hag  that  ever  floated  on  the  breeze  in 
DeKalb  County.  This  he  did  as  soon  as  he  heard  that 
Georgia  had  passed  the  ordinance  of  secession.  A few 
miles  from  Decatur  there  was  a large  mill  known  as 
Williams’s  Mill,  situated  on  Peachtree  Creek.  At  the 
terminus  of  the  bridge  that  spanned  the  creek,  near  the 
little  hamlet,  there  grew  a tall,  graceful  Lombardy  pop- 
lar tree.  The  flag  had  been  made  by  Mrs.  Morton,  Mrs. 
James  Hunter,  and  other  ladies  who  lived  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  was  hoisted  by  Mr.  Morton  from  the  top 
of  the  lofty  poplar.  When  the  Federals  came  in  they  cut 
down  the  tree,  but  another  has  grown  from  its  roots. 

Mr.  Morton  enlisted  with  the  first  company  that  went 
from  DeKalb,  but  returned  and  organized  one  of  his 
own — Company  F,  36th  Georgia.  From  this  command 
he  was  sent  home  on  account  of  lung  trouble,  and  placed 
on  special  duty.  When  Hood  fell  back  to  Atlanta,  Captain 


314 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Morton  joined  White’s  Scouts,  a picked  band  of  men. 
He  was  also  at  one  time  Morgan’s  guide. 

After  Mr.  J.  W.  Kirkpatrick  refugeed,  his  home  on 
Atlanta  Street  was  occupied  by  Captain  Morton's  fam- 
ily. Here  some  stirring  incidents  occurred.  Says  one 
of  his  daughters:  “Pa  tried  to  avoid  coming  within 
the  Yankee  lines,  but  did  several  times  get  caught  at 
home,  owing  to  his  extreme  weakness.  Finally,  after  the 
23d  Army  Corps  was  sent  back  to  Tennessee,  a raiding 
party  of  Federals  went  out  toward  Stone  Mountain,  were 
fired  on  a few  miles  from  Decatur,  and  several  killed. 
They  were  furious  when  they  got  to  our  house  (on  their 
return).  Here  they  found  one  of  ‘White’s  Men’  (Pa) 
ill  in  bed.  They  held  a court-martial  and  sentenced  him 
to  be  hanged  as  soon  as  they  finished  eating  dinner. 
Meanwhile  they  left  a guard  in  his  bed-room.  Ma  asked 
the  guard  to  sit  in  the  parlor  and  leave  them  alone  the 
short  time  he  had  to  live.  The  guard  was  a kind-hearted 
man,  the  house  surrounded,  the  whole  detachment  eat- 
ing and  feeding  their  horses  on  all  sides,  and  Pa  was 
very  feeble ; so  the  guard  sat  in  the  parlor.”  Captain 
Morton  then  disguised  himself,  armed  himself,  and,  pass- 
ing out  a side  door,  went  unchallenged  through  the 
crowd  of  soldiers,  by  Woodall’s  tan-yard  and  out  into 
the  woods.  Continues  his  daughter : “But  when  the 
guard  thought  he  had  better  see  the  prisoner,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  he  was  gone.  They  talked  of  burning  the 
house,  and  made  many  other  threats.  For  a long  time 
we  did  not  know  whether  he  had  escaped  or  died  in  the 
woods.  * * * No  man  that  served  in  the  Confeder- 

ate army  more  truly  laid  down  his  life  for  the  cause 
than  did  my  father.  He  never  recovered  from  the  lung 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


315 


trouble  brought  on  and  aggravated  by  the  exposure  and 
hardships  he  endured  between  ’61  and  ’65.” 

Warren  Morton  went  into  the  army  at  the  tender 
age  of  fifteen,  as  a private  in  his  father’s  company.  He 
was  in  the  siege  of  Vicksburg — was  paroled,  and  re- 
entered the  army  in  Cumming’s  Brigade — and  was  shot 
at  Kennesaw,  near  Marietta,  while  acting  as  Sergeant- 
Major  on  Hood’s  retreat.  The  ball  struck  the  bone  of  the 
outer  angle  of  the  left  eye,  cutting  away  the  temple 
plate,  and  came  out  just  over  the  ear,  cutting  off  the 
upper  half  of  the  ear.  The  torn  nerves  and  arteries 
have  always  caused  him  pain.  The  bullet,  while  it  did 
not  touch  his  eye-ball,  paralyzed  the  optic  nerve  on  that 
side.  The  hardships  endured  when  a growing  boy,  the 
long  marches  in  Kentucky,  the  starvation  rations  in 
Vicksburg,  and  the  horrible  wound,  ruined  his  con- 
stitution. Yet  he  has  been  an  energetic  man,  and  is  liv- 
ing now  on  a farm  near  Newnan. 

The  yound  ladies — girls  they  all  were  at  the  time  of 
which  I write — were  Lizzie,  Anna,  Kelly,  Fannie  and 
Eddie. 

On  the  day  that  Wheeler’s  Cavalry  routed  the  Fed- 
eral wagon  train  at  Decatur,  Lieutenant  Farrar  of  the 
63d  Ohio  Regiment  was  killed  on  a meadow  near  Mrs. 
S wanton’s  residence,  just  opposite  Mrs.  Morton’s. 
There  was  also  another  Federal,  a mere  lad,  who  was 
mortally  wounded.  In  some  way  I discovered  the  dying 
boy,  and,  after  carrying  him  some  water,  I left  him  to 
the  care  of  the  nearer  neighbors.  Mrs.  James  Hunter, 
Mrs.  Morton  and  her  daughters  cared  for  him  as  best 
they  could,  and  sat  by  him  until  he  died.  Miss  Lizzie 
Morton  cut  from  his  head  a lock  of  hair  and  wrote  some 


316 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


verses,  which  Mrs.  Swanton  kindly  sent  to  his  people 
in  Dayton,  Ohio.  In  some  way  this  became  known  to 
the  Federal  officers,  and  future  developments  showed  that 
this  tender  act  was  much  appreciated  by  them. 

On  the  morning  of  the  22d  of  July,  1864,  Mrs.  Morton 
sat  on  the  front  steps  watching  for  an  officer  to  whom 
she  might  appeal  for  protection.  Very  early  General 
McPherson  and  his  staff  rode  by.  Mrs.  Morton  ran 
out  and  called.  General  McPherson  alighted  from  his 
horse,  heard  her  story,  bare-headed,  with  his  hat  in  hand, 
wrote  an  order  and  dispatched  it,  and  then  mounting, 
rode  away  to  his  death.  That  order  was  to  station  a 
guard  at  the  house,  and  it  was  never  disregarded  as  long 
as  the  Federal  line  was  near.  This  the  family  have  al- 
ways attributed  to  their  caring  for  the  dead,  and  to  the 
kind  order  of  General  McPherson. 

On  the  night  of  the  21st,  Mrs.  Morton  had  been 
badly  frightened  by  some  Federal  soldiers  coming  to  her 
house  with  the  accusation  that  her  young  daughter  “had 
given  information  that  had  led  to  the  capture  of  their 
wagon  train.”  Threats  of  burning  the  residence  were 
made  by  the  Federals  on  several  occasions.  The  family 
feel  persuaded  that  Bill  Pittman,  a faithful  negro,  a saw- 
yer who  had  lived  many  years  at  Williams’s  Mill,  pre- 
vented these  threats  from  being  put  into  execution. 

Soon  after  the  close  of  the  war  Captain  Morton  and 
his  family  went  to  Mississippi.  Here  he  died,  and  one 
after  another  four  of  the  girls,  Anna,  Kelly,  Fanny,  and 
Eddie.  Most  touchingly  Lizzie  (Mrs.  P.  W.  Corr) 
writes : “When  my  sister  and  I were  little  girls  in  De- 
catur, we  were  very  fond  of  private  literary  entertain- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


317 


ments.  Anna’s  favorite  declamation  (which  always 
brought  down  the  house)  was : 

‘They  grew  in  beauty  side  by  side 
Around  one  parent  knee; 

Their  graves  are  scattered  far  and  wide 
O’er  mountain,  plain,  and  sea.’ 

“Anna  sleeps  alone  near  an  old  church  in  Scott 
County,  Mississippi ; Keiiy,  alone  at  Pickens,  Pa. ; Fanny 
and  Eddie  side  by  side  at  Shiloh,  in  Holmes  County.” 
Anna  married  Mr.  Kearney ; Kelly,  Mr.  W.  S.  Cole. 
Mrs.  Morton  is  still  living  in  the  home  of  her  daughter 
Lizzie,  who  married  Rev.  P.  W.  Corr,  of  Hampton, 
Florida.  Mrs.  Corr  is  very  happily  married,  being  fond 
and  proud  of  her  husband,  and  her  children  filling  her 
heart  with  comfort  and  pleasure.  To  crown  her  earthly 
blessings,  her  mother  has  been  spared  to  her  in  all  life’s 
changing  scenes. 

Here  in  her  happy  Florida  home  we  leave  our  erst- 
while lassie  of  the  war  times — now  an  earnest  wife  and 
mother,  busy  ever  with  home  duties,  and  also  a true  help- 
meet to  her  husband  in  his  ministerial  and  editorial 
labors. 

This  sketch,  with  its  incidents,  both  heroic  and  pa- 
thetic, can  not  be  more  appropriately  concluded  than  by 
the  touching  words  of  Mrs.  Corr  in  a recent  letter : 
“What  you  say  of  the  ‘empty  places’  is  full  of  suggestive- 
ness. I think  I never  could  have  borne  my  losses  and 
still  have  moved  about  among  the  ‘empty  places.’  But 
going  always  among  strangers  after  every  loss,  being  re- 
moved at  once  from  the  scene  of  death  and  not  passing 
that  way  again,  my  sisters  live  in  memory  as  part  of  the 
past,  always  merry,  happy  girls,  never  to  grow  heart- 


318 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


weary,  never  to  fade.  We,  wandering  among  strangers  in 
strange  and  unfamiliar  scenes,  have  kept  the  memory 
of  our  old  Decatur  home  and  friends  intact.  There  are 
no  empty  places  there  for  us. 

“It  seems  sweet  to  me  to  think  that  in  that  home  to 
which  we  are  all  traveling,  we  shall  find  that  those  dear 
ones  who  have  preceded  us  have  carried  with  them  that 
same  bright  and  precious  picture,  which,  however,  is  not 
there  a picture  of  memory,  but  a reality  of  which  the 
earthly  circle  was  only  a shadow  or  prophecy ; and  the 
only  empty  places  there  are  those  which  shall  be  filled 
when  we  get  home.  Something  there  is  in  the  friend- 
ships, even,  of  other  days,  that  has  never  died — some- 
thing that  will  live  again — a root  planted  here  that  there 
blossoms  and  fruits  eternally.  How  much  more  true  is 
this — it  must  be  so — of  those  who  were  heart  of  our 
hearts,  our  own  loved  ones.  I doubt  not  that  for  one 
sad  longing  thought  of  ‘brother,  mother,  nephew,’  all 
that  you  have  loved  and  lost,  they  have  had  many  sweet 
and  loving  thoughts  of  you,  and  joyful  anticipations  of 
your  coming  home  ‘Some  Sweet  Day.’  ” 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


319 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

HON.  JOSEPH  E.  BROWN'S  PIKES  AND  GUNS. 

(This  chapter,  and  the  succeeding  one,  were  not  placed  in 
the  chronological  order  of  events,  because  they  would  have  broken 
the  continuity  ot  personal  experiences). 

After  an  appeal  to  physical  force,  as  the  only  means 
of  redressing  our  wrongs,  was  fully  determined  upon, 
we  made  many  important  discoveries,  chief  of  which 
was  that  we  were  not  prepared  for  war.  This  fact  had 
often  been  impressively  and  earnestly  set  forth  by  our 
greatest  statesmen,  Alexander  Hamilton  Stephens  and 
Benjamin  Harvey  Hill,  who,  though  reared  in  different 
schools  of  politics,  were  fully  agreed  upon  this  point,  and 
who  urged,  with  all  the  eloquence  of  patriotism  and  pro- 
found understanding  of  existing  facts,  the  importance 
of  delaying  the  act  of  seceding  from  the  United  States 
until  we  were  better  prepared  for  the  mighty  conse- 
quences— either  beneficial  or  disastrous.  In  no  way  was 
the  wisdom  of  this  advice  made  more  apparent  than  by 
our  utter  want  of  the  appliances  of  warfare  on  land  and 
on  sea. 

The  ordinance  of  secession  having  been  enacted,  Geor- 
gia found  itself  confronted  by  the  scarcity  of  guns  and 
other  munitions  of  warfare.  Hon.  Joseph  E.  Brown,  our 
war  Governor,  finding  it  impossible  to  secure  even  shot- 


320 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


guns  to  equip  the  many  regiments  eager  for  the  fray,  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  arming  them  with  pikes;  and,  un- 
daunted by  the  Herculean  undertaking,  put  a large  force 
of  the  best  blacksmiths  at  the  W.  & A.  R.  R.  shops  to 
making  these  primitive  weapons.  To  whose  fertile  brain 
belongs  the  honor  of  evolving  the  plan  or  diagram  by 
which  they  were  to  be  made,  has  never  been  revealed  to 
the  writer.  The  blade  of  the  pike  was  to  be  about  16 
inches  long  and  2 inches  wide,  with  a spur  of  about  3 
inches  on  either  side,  all  of  which  was  to  be  ground  to  a 
sharp  edge.  The  shank  was  to  be  about  12  inches  long, 
and  arranged  to  rivet  in  a staff  6 feet  long. 

In  the  memorable  year,  1861,  J.  C.  Peck  owned  a 
planing  mill  and  general  wood-working  shop  on  Decatur 
Street,  Atlanta,  Georgia,  on  the  grounds  now  occupied 
by  the  Southern  (old  Richmond  and  Danville)  R.  R. 
freight  depot.  There  being  no  machinery  at  the  railroad 
shops  suitable  for  turning  the  handles  nor  grinding  the 
pikes,  Mr.  Peck  contracted  to  grind  and  supply  with 
handles  the  entire  number — he  thinks  ten  thousand.  Be- 
fore he  finished  this  work,  Governor  Brown  called  a meet- 
ing of  the  mechanics  of  Atlanta  for  the  purpose  of  as- 
certaining if  some  arrangement  could  be  made  for  the 
manufacture  of  guns  for  the  army.  This  meeting  was 
adjourned  two  or  three  times,  and  no  one  seemed  willing 
to  undertake  the  job.  At  the  last  meeting  a letter  was 
received  from  the  Ordnance  Department  of  the  Confed- 
erate States,  containing  a “drawing”  of  a short  heavy 
rifle  to  be  supplied  with  a Tripod  rest,  and  an  urgent 
request  that  the  Governor  would  encourage  the  making 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


321 


of  twenty-five  guns  after  this  pattern,  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. A liberal  premium  for  the  sample  was  offered  by 
the  Confederate  Ordnance  Department.  The  barrels  were 
to  be  thirty  inches  long  with  one  inch  bore,  and  rifled 
with  three  grooves,  so  as  to  make  one  complete  revolu- 
tion in  the  thirty  inches.  As  no  one  else  would  under- 
take this  complicated  job,  Mr.  Peck  asked  for  the  “draw- 
ing,” and  announced  his  willingness  to  do  so.  He  dis- 
covered that  it  would  require  iron  3-4  by  4 1-2  or  5 inches 
to  make  the  barrels,  and  for  this  purpose  he  procured 
enough  Swede  iron  at  a hardware  store  on  Whitehall 
Street  to  make  thirty  barrels.  He  also  discovered  that 
the  common  Smith  bellows  would  not  yield  a blast  suffi- 
cient to  secure  welding  heat  on  so  large  a piece,  and  it 
was  suggested  that  it  could  be  done  at  W.  & A.  R.  R. 
shops ; he  therefore  secured  an  order  from  Governor 
Brown  authorizing  this  important  work  to  be  done  there 
under  his  instruction.  An  old  German  smith,  whom  Mr. 
Peck  found  at  the  shops,  rendered  him  valuable  aid  in 
the  accomplishment  of  this  portion  of  the  work.  As 
rapidly  as  the  welding  was  done  he  had  them  carried  to 
his  shop,  and  a wood-turner,  Mr.  W.  L.  Smith,  bored  them 
on  a wood-turning  lath.  This  was  a difficult  job,  as  the 
boring  bits  caught  in  the  irregular  hole  and  broke ; finally 
he  devised  a sort  of  rose  bit  which  steadied  itself,  and 
he  had  no  further  trouble.  After  successfully  accom- 
plishing this  portion  of  the  work,  Mr.  Peck  found  him- 
self confronted  by  another  difficulty.  He  had  no  way 
of  turning  iron,  but  his  indomitable  will  shrank  not  from 
the  task,  and  he  threw  out  a search-light  which  enabled 


322 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


him  to  discern  a Savage,  who  had  been  superintendent 
of  Pitts  & Cook’s  gin  factory,  and  he  engaged  him  to 
turn  it.  Mr.  Peck  then  employed  an  ingenious  black- 
smith, who  did  to  his  satisfaction  all  the  smith  work  he 
wanted.  He  made  his  own  taps  and  dies  for  fitting  the 
breech  pieces,  putting  in  the  nipples,  etc.,  and  forged  the 
hammers,  triggers,  ramrods,  etc.  The  brass  mountings 
were  cast  by  Gullatte  Brothers,  who  at  that  time  were 
running  a brass  foundry.  The  locks  were  purchased  by 
Mr.  Peck  in  Macon,  but,  as  already  intimated,  had  to  be 
supplied  with  new  hammers  and  triggers.  As  the  plan 
called  for  the  barrels  to  be  rifled  with  three  grooves, 
and  to  make  one  complete  revolution  in  the  length  of  the 
barrel,  there  was  none  in  the  employ  of  Mr.  Peck  who 
had  any  idea  how  it  was  to  be  done.  Much  perplexed 
he  went  to  Mr.  Charles  Heinz,  the  gunsmith  on  White- 
hall Street,  who  explained  the  process  of  rifling  done  by 
hand.  On  this  idea  Mr.  Peck  constructed  a machine 
which  he  attached  to  a Daniels  planer.  This  was  a wood 
machine,  with  a bed  which  traveled  backward  and  for- 
ward, similar  to  the  bed  of  an  iron  planer — in  such  a 
manner  that  the  backward  and  forward  motion  of  the 
bed  gave,  also,  a rotary  motion  to  the  cutters.  By  this 
process  each  barrel  was  rifled  precisely  alike.  Mr.  Peck 
had  thirty  barrels  forged,  but  some  of  them  were  defective 
and  would  not  bore  through  without  breaking,  and  some 
were  burnt  in  testing.  Only  twenty-five  of  them  were 
finished.  He  had  an  abundance  of  walnut  lumber  and 
did  not  have  to  contend  with  any  obstacle  in  making  the 
stocks,  but  some  in  clamping  them  to  the  barrels.  The 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


323 


plan  also  showed  the  usual  screw  in  the  extension  of  the 
breech  pin,  and  two  bands  similar  to  those  on  the  old 
style  musket.  Mr.  Peck  forged  iron  bands,  but  with  his 
best  effort  at  finishing  them  they  appeared  clumsy.  Op- 
portunely he  chanced  to  see  a wagon  on  Pryor  Street 
containing  a lot  of  hardware  and  other  things,  among 
which  was  a large  brass  kettle.  Thinking  he  could  make 
bands  out  of  this  vessel,  he  purchased  it  and  cut  it  up 
into  those  indispensable  parts  of  his  famous  job,  but  an- 
other obstacle  to  success  presented  itself  to  his  patient 
vision.  He  could  find  no  one  to  braze  the  joints.  By  ref- 
erence to  his  “Mechanic’s  Companion”  he  learned  the 
art,  and  brazed  the  bands  in  a skillful  style.  This  being 
done,  he  gave  his  finishing  touches  to  the  rifles. 

The  balls  were  like  minie-balls,  one  inch  in  diameter, 
and  two  and  one-fourth  inches  long,  and  weighed  four 
ounces.  Mr.  Peck  made  only  one  set  of  bullet  moulds, 
which  run  two  bullets  at  the  same  time,  and  he  thinks 
he  made  only  six  of  the  tripod  rests.  They  were — every 
lock,  stock  and  barrel — tested  by  several  persons  expert 
in  the  handling  of  muskets,  rifles,  shotguns,  etc.,  among 
whom  he  was,  Mr.  Charles  Heinz,  still  living  in  Atlanta, 
and  who  will  vouch  for  the  accuracy  of  this  important 
item  of  Confederate  history,  and  the  utility  of  the  shot 
emanating  from  these  wonderful  guns.  To  put  it  mildly, 
the  effect  was  almost  equal  to  that  of  a six-pounder.  And 
the  recoil!  Well!  Wonderful  to  relate!  They  must 
have  had  infused  into  their  mechanism  supernatural  or 
national  prescience,  and  peering  through  the  dim  vista 
of  the  future  saw  the  beacon  light  of  a re-united  country, 


324 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


and  disdained  partiality  in  the  Fratricidal  Contest,  for 
every  time  one  of  them  was  shot  at  a “ Yankee,”  it  kicked 
a “Rebel”  down. 

P.  S. — Mr.  Peck  has  the  original  “drawing”  sent  on 
from  the  Ordnance  Department  at  Richmond,  and  also 
the  receipt  for  the  payment  for  the  barrels.  He  also 
has  a letter  from  the  Chief  of  Ordnance  at  Washington, 
D.  C.,  informing  him  that  the  identical  guns  described 
in  the  above  sketch  had  been  found  in  his  department, 
and  that  two  of  them  would  be  exhibited  in  the  Govern- 
ment building  of  the  Piedmont  Exposition,  Atlanta,  Geor- 
gia, in  1895. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


325 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE  PURSUIT  AND  CAPTURE  OF  THE  ANDREWS  RAIDERS. 


Captain  William  A.  Fuller  and  his  comrades  of  the  pursuit. — 
The  race  of  the  engines,  “The  General”  and  “The  Texas.” 

In  the  early  part  of  1862  the  army  of  the  Cumberland 
and  also  that  of  the  Tennessee  had  grown  to  gigantic 
proportions.  The  history  of  that  memorable  era  estab- 
lishes the  fact  that  in  the  month  of  February  of  that  year 
the  army  of  the  Cumberland,  commanded  by  General 
Buell,  had  captured  Fort  Donaldson  and  several  other 
strong  strategic  points  on  the  Tennessee  and  Mississippi 
Rivers.  Numerically  the  Federal  army  was  so  much 
stronger  than  the  Confederate  that  large  detachments 
could  easily  be  made  for  incursions  into  the  interior  and 
unprotected  sections  of  middle  and  West  Tennessee, 
while  the  main  army  steadily  advanced  down  the  Mis- 
sissippi Valley.  By  the  first  of  April,  General  Mitchell 
had  occupied  Shelbyville  and  other  cities,  including  Nash- 
ville ; and  the  larger  towns  and  railroad  stations  in  the 
neighborhood  south  and  east  of  Nashville  had  been  oc- 
cupied by  the  Federals. 

Recognizing  the  importance  of  saving  to  the  Con- 
federate cause  everything  necessary  to  sustain  life  both 
of  man  and  beast,  all  that  could  be  brought  out  of  Ken- 


326 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


tucky  and  Tennessee  had  been  sent  South — to  Atlanta 
and  other  important  points — so  that  those  States  were 
literally  stripped  of  all  surplus  food. 

The  army  of  the  Tennessee,  under  the  command  of 
General  Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  sought  to  meet  General 
Buell  and  dispute  his  further  advance.  Corinth,  Mis- 
sissippi, was  selected  by  General  Johnston  as  a point  be- 
yond which  the  army  of  the  Cumberland  should  not  go. 
This  position  commanded  the  Memphis  and  Charleston 
Railroad,  as  well  as  others  running  south  of  that  point. 
By  the  fifth  of  April  General  Buell’s  army  had  massed  at 
Pittsburg  Landing,  and  along  a line  reaching  south  and 
parallel  to  that  of  General  Johnston.  Relatively  the 
armies  stood  about  five  to  eight,  the  Confederate  of  course 
being  the  smaller.  They  met  in  battle  on  the  6th  day  of 
April  at  Shiloh,  so-called  by  the  Federals,  but  Southern 
historians  call  it  the  battle  of  Corinth.  The  fight  was  a 
long  and  disastrous  one — disastrous  to  both  armies — 
but  the  Federals,  having  an  unbounded  supply  of  every- 
thing needed  in  war,  and  being  immediately  strengthened 
by  large  reinforcements  which  literally  poured  in,  were 
enabled  to  rapidly  recuperate.  The  Confederates  lost 
heavily  in  killed  and  wounded,  and  suffered  irreparably 
by  the  death  of  General  Albert  Sidney  Johnston.  The 
loss  of  this  noble  man  was  deeply  felt  and  regretted  by 
the  entire  South.  The  week  following  this  horrible  car- 
nage was  mainly  taken  up  by  both  armies  in  burying 
the  dead,  caring  for  the  wounded,  fortifying,  receiving 
reinforcements  and  maneuvering  for  advantageous  posi- 
tions. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


327 


General  Mitchell,  as  already  stated,  had  occupied 
Shelbyville,  and  had  a considerable  force.  Some  cavalry 
had  penetrated  as  far  south-east  as  Chattanooga,  and  had 
several  times  dropped  a few  shell  into  that  town. 

After  the  death  of  General  Johnston  the  Confederate 
army  at  Corinth  was  put  under  the  command  of  General 
Beauregard.  There  were  small  detachments  of  Confed- 
erate troops  distributed  along  the  Memphis  and  Charles- 
ton Railroad  to  Stephenson,  and  from  there  to  Chatta- 
nooga ; also  from  Chattanooga  to  Bristol,  on  the  East 
Tennessee  and  Georgia  Railroad,  and  on  the  Virginia  and 
Tennessee.  These  were  to  guard  the  railroad  bridges, 
depots,  and  government  stores,  etc.  General  Ledbetter 
was  stationed  at  Chattanooga  with  about  three  thousand 
men.  There  was  a tolerably  strong  guard  at  London 
bridge,  where  the  East  Tennessee  railroad  crosses  the 
Tennessee  river;  and  Generl  E.  Kirby  Smith  occupied 
Knoxville,  with  a sufficient  force  to  protect  that  impor- 
tant point  as  against  General  Morgan  in  his  immediate 
front  with  a strong  force.  East  Tennessee  was  very 
nearly  evenly  divided  between  Federals  and  Confederate 
sympathizers.  Neither  side  was  safe  from  betrayal.  Those 
who  were  true  to  the  Southern  cause  distinguished  them- 
selves as  officials  and  soldiers,  and  those  who  were 
recreant  to  it  were  a source  of  great  annoyance  and  dis- 
aster; and  this  applies  to  Kentucky  and  West  Virginia 
as  well.  During  the  month  of  April,  1862,  Brownlow, 
and  those  of  his  opinion,  were  arrested,  and  imprisoned 
in  Knoxville. 

The  strict  rules  of  the  passport  system  had  not  yet 


328 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


been  adopted  by  Southern  army  commanders,  and  it  was 
no  difficult  matter  for  friend  or  foe  to  pass  the  lines. 

Thus  matters  stood  at  that  time.  The  reader,  there- 
fore, may  be  prepared  to  appreciate  one  of  the  most 
exciting,  thrilling  and  interesting  stories  of  the  Civil 
Contest. 

The  Western  and  Atlantic  Railroad  (often  called  the 
State  Road)  at  the  time  discussed  in  the  preceding  pages, 
was  the  only  line  of  communication  between  the  south- 
ern centre  of  the  Confederate  States  and  the  Army  of 
Tennessee.  It  was  worthy  of  notice  that  this  road  was 
not  paralleled  by  any  roads  now  in  existence.  The  Mem- 
phis and  Charleston  Railroad  came  into  the  Nashville 
and  Chattanooga  at  Stephenson  as  now,  and  the  latter 
road  reached  from  Nashville  to  Chattanooga.  The  East 
Tennessee  and  Georgia  Road  also  came  into  Chattanooga 
then  as  now,  and  also  into  Dalton.  These  three  railroad 
lines  were  “the  feeders”  for  the  Western  and  Atlantic 
Railroad  at  Chattanooga  and  Dalton.  At  the  south  or 
Atlanta  end  of  that  line  we  had  the  old  Macon  & Wes- 
tern (now  the  Georgia  Central),  the  Atlanta  and  West 
Point,  and  the  Georgia  Railroad,  as  feeders  for  the  Wes- 
tern and  Atlantic,  which  reached  from  Atlanta  via  Dal- 
ton to  Chattanooga.  As  has-  been  stated,  the  Army  of 
Tennessee,  under  General  Beauregard,  at  Corinth,  the 
army  under  General  E.  Kirby  Smith  at  Knoxville,  the 
army  under  General  Ledbetter  at  Chattanooga,  and  all 
detailed  men  on  duty  along  the  whole  front  of  the  Con- 
federates from  Corinth  to  Bristol,  depended  upon  this 
single  line  (the  old  reliable  Western  and  Atlantic  Rail- 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


329 


road)  for  army  supplies.  There  was  no  other  road  in  the 
whole  distance  of  eight  hundred  miles,  reaching  from 
Mobile,  Alabama,  to  Richmond,  Virginia,  that  ran  north 
and  south.  These  facts  were  well  known  to  northern 
commanders,  and  it  has  always  seemed  strange  that  the 
road  should  have  been  so  unprotected.  The  many  bridges 
on  the  Western  and  Atlantic  were  guarded  at  the  time 
under  consideration,  April,  1862,  by  a single  watchman 
at  each  bridge,  and  he  was  employed  by  the  railroad  au- 
thorities. The  bridges  were  of  the  Howe  Tress  pattern, 
weatherboarded  with  common  wooden  boards,  and  cov- 
ered with  shingles.  .They  were  exceedingly  inflammable 
and  could  easily  have  been  set  on  fire. 

One  of  the  rules  for  the  running  of  the  trains  was 
that  “if  any  two  trains  failed  to  make  the  meeting  point 
they  would  be  considered  irregular  trains,  and  the  con- 
ductor of  each  train  should  be  required  to  send  a flagman 
ahead,  and  thus  proceed  until  the  two  flagmen  met.” 
This  cumbersome  rule  frequently  occasioned  great  dis- 
order, and  sometimes  many  trains  of  all  grades  were 
massed  together  at  one  station.  Railroad  men  will  under- 
stand this  condition  of  affairs.  • These  things  were  known 
and  understood  not  only  by  the  Confederates,  but  by  the 
Federals  through  their  spies.  J.  J.  Andrews  especially 
understood  them,  as  the  sequel  will  prove. 

It  is  beyond  the  scope  of  this  article  to  discuss  the 
plans  adopted  by  Captain  J.  J.  Andrews  and  his  twenty- 
two  auxiliaries,  to  descend  into  the  heart  of  the  South ; 
suffice  it  to  say,  their  plans  were  successful,  and  they 
passed  the  Confederate  lines  and  entered  the  pretty  town 


330 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


of  Marietta,  twenty  miles  north  of  Atlanta,  unmolested 
and  unsuspected.  The  solving  of  the  mystery  will  appear 
at  the  proper  time.  For  present  purposes  it  is  enough  to 
state  that  they  not  only  entered  the  town  mentioned,  but 
boarded  the  north-bound  train  on  the  morning  of  April 
12th,  1862.  The  well-known  and  intrepid  Captain  Wil- 
liam A.  Fuller  was  the  conductor  in  charge  of  that  train 
— the  now  celebrated  “General”  was  his  engine — and 
Jeff  Cain  his  engineer.  There  was  nothing  suspicious  in 
the  environments  of  the  occasion.  In  those  days  it  was 
not  unusual,  even  in  a country  town,  for  a large  num- 
ber of  men  to  board  a train,  and  they  were  coming  in 
from  all  over  the  country  to  join  the  Confederate  army. 

There  was  a Camp  of  Instruction  at  Big  Shanty,  seven 
miles  north  of  Marietta,  and  this  fact,  as  well  as  many 
others  more  important,  was  known  to  Andrews,  who 
from  the  beginning  of  the  war  had  been  “a  commercial 
traveller,”  “in  full  sympathy  with  the  South,”  and  had 
ridden  over  this  line  many  times.  The  conductor,  there- 
fore, took  up  the  tickets  as  usual,  some  to  one  point  and 
some  to  another,  but  the  most  of  them  to  Big  Shanty. 
The  raiders  were  dressed  in  various  styles  and  appeared 
like  a good  class  of  countrymen.  They  claimed  to  be 
“refugees  from  beyond  the  Lincoln  lines.” 

Big  Shanty  was  a mere  station,  having  only  one  or 
two  business  houses,  and  noted  by  the  traveling  public 
as  having  a most  excellent  “eating-house”  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  the  passenger  trains.  When  Captain 
Fuller’s  train  arrived  at  Big  Shanty,  the  passengers 
and  train  hands  went  into  the  hotel  for  breakfast.  The 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


331 


absence  from  the  table  of  the  large  crowd  that  got  on 
the  train  at  Marietta  was  noticed  by  the  conductor,  and 
just  as  he  took  his  seat,  which  commanded  a view  of  his 
train,  the  gong  on  the  old  “General”  rang.  It  should 
be  stated  here  that  the  train  was  as  follows : “The  Gen- 
eral,” three  freight  cars,  one  second  and  two  first-class 
coaches,  a baggage  car  and  express  car.  Andrews  had 
detached  the  entire  passenger  train,  put  his  surplus  men 
into  the  three  freight  cars,  and  on  “The  General”  he  had 
with  himself  his  own  engineer  and  fireman. 

The  very  moment  the  gong  rang  Captain  Fuller 
sprang  from  the  table,  and  with  a swift  run  reached  the 
main  track  and  pursued  the  flying  train,  which  was  now 
fast  disappearing  around  a curve  in  the  road.  As  he 
ran  out  of  the  hotel  Captain  Fuller  called  to  his  engineer, 
Jeff  Cain:  “Some  one  who  has  no  right  to  do  so  has 
taken  our  train!”  Cain  and  Mr.  Anthony  Murphy  join- 
ed in  the  race,  but  were  soon  distanced  by  the  fleet-footed 
Fuller.  The  limestone  soil  between  the  tracks  was  wet 
and  clung  to  his  feet  so  that  fast  running  was  very  fati- 
guing to  Captain  Fuller,  but  he  ran  with  a determination 
that  overcame  all  obstacles.  Moon’s  Station,  a little 
more  than  two  miles  from  Big  Shanty,  was  reached  by 
him  in  an  incredibly  short  time.  Here  he  found  that  the 
Andrews  raiders  had  stopped  and  had  taken  all  of  the 
tools  from  the  railroad  section  hands.  They  had  climbed 
the  telegraph  poles,  cut  the  wire,  and  carried  a hundred 
feet  of  it  along  with  them  to  prevent  the  repair  of  the 
line  in  time  to  thwart  their  plans.  The  track  hands  were 
amazed  at  their  conduct,  and  hurriedly  told  Captain  Ful- 


332 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


ler  what  had  been  done.  Up  to  this  time  he  had  been  in 
doubt  as  to  the  true  character  of  the  raiders.  He  had 
thought  that  possibly  some  of  the  Confederates  at  Camp 
McDonald,  (the  Camp  of  Instruction  at  Big  Shanty), 
tired  of  strict  discipline  and  confinement,  might  have 
taken  the  train  in  order  to  enable  them  to  pass  the  en- 
vironment of  their  camp.  But  from  this  moment  there 
was  no  room  for  doubt.  As  quickly  as  possible  Captain 
Fuller  and  two  track  hands  placed  upon  the  rails  an  old 
timber  car  used  for  hauling  crossties,  iron,  and  other 
heavy  material.  This  was  an  unwieldy  and  cumbersome 
medium  of  locomotion,  but  it  rendered  good  service, 
nevertheless.  Captain  Fuller  knew  that  every  moment  of 
time  was  most  valuable,  as  the  raiders  were  speeding 
along  up  the  road  and  his  chances  for  overtaking  and 
capturing  them  were  very  doubtful.  While  putting  on 
the  hand-car  he  debated  with  himself  these  questions : 
“Should  he  proceed  immediately  in  the  pursuit,  or  would 
it  be  best  to  push  back  and  get  his  engineer?”  He  de- 
cided to  push  back  for  Cain,  and  when  he  had  gone 
nearly  a mile  he  met  Cain  and  Mr.  Anthony  Murphy. 
They  were  taken  on  the  hand-car  and  the  pursuit  of  the 
raiders,  now  far  ahead,  was  begun  again.  Captain  Ful- 
ler says  that  if  he  had  not  gone  back,  as  above  stated, 
he  would  have  captured  the  raiders  at  Kingston,  as  more 
than  twenty  minutes  were  lost,  and  he  was  quite  that 
close  to  them  at  Kingston.  He  says,  however,  he  is  now 
glad  he  did  not  do  so,  as  the  run  from  that  point  fur- 
nished the  most  thrilling  event  of  his  life. 

Murphy,  Cain,  the  two  track  hands,  and  Fuller  pushed 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


333 


and  ran,  and  ran  and  pushed,  alternately,  and  each  and 
every  man  on  the  old  hand-car  did  his  full  duty.  Soon 
after  passing  Moon’s  Station,  where  Captain  Fuller  got 
the  hand-car,  the  pursuers  came  upon  a pile  of  cross-ties, 
but  they  were  soon  removed  from  the  track  and  the  race 
resumed. 

The  intelligent  reader  will  not  for  a moment  suppose 
that  Captain  Fuller  and  his  comrades  entertained  any 
hope  of  overtaking  the  raiders  on  foot,  or  even  by  the 
hand-car.  Captain  Fuller’s  thoughts  ran  ahead  of  his 
surroundings,  and  he  disclosed  his  plans  to  his  comrades 
in  these  words:  “If  we  can  get  to  Etowah  by  9.40, 
we  will  catch  the  old  Yonah.  This  we  can  do  by  very 
hard  work,  unless  hindered  by  obstructions.”  This  sug- 
gestion doubled  the  energy  of  every  man,  and  they  aban- 
doned themselves  to  the  task  before  them.  It  is  difficult 
to  write,  with  deliberation,  a story  so  full  of  push  and 
haste.  This  run  of  twenty  miles  with  an  old  clumsy 
hand-car,  under  so  many  difficulties,  is  replete  with  inter- 
est. At  length,  after  Captain  Fuller  and  his  comrades 
were  thoroughly  exhausted,  standing  on  the  turn-table  at 
Etowah  more  than  a mile  away,  “the  old  Yonah”  was 
espied.  A yell  and  cry  of  great  joy  went  up  from  these 
gallant  men ; but,  alas,  their  vision  had  extended  beyond 
their  immediate  danger ! The  raiders  had  removed  an 
outside  rail  in  a short  curve,  and  unexpectedly,  the  whole 
party  was  thrown  into  a ditch  full  of  water.  This,  how- 
ever, was  a small  matter  to  men  of  resolute  will  and  iron 
nerve.  The  car  was  soon  carried  across  the  break  in  the 
track  and  put  upon  the  run  again.  One  of  the  track 


334 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


hands  was  left  to  watch  this  break,  to  prevent  danger  to 
following  trains — the  other  was  left  with  the  hand-car 
at  Etowah.  Although  the  old  Yonah  was  standing  on 
the  turn-table  at  Etowah,  her  tender  was  on  another 
track.  Willing  and  eager  hands  soon  had  the  engine  and 
tender  coupled  together,  and  the  Yonah  was  “pressed 
into  service.”  An  empty  coal  car  was  taken  on,  and  a 
few  Confederate  soldiers,  who  were  at  the  station  wait- 
ing for  a south-bound  train,  volunteered  to  join  in  the 
chase.  The  engineer  of  the  Yonah,  Mr.  Marion  Hilly, 
and  his  own  hands,  ran  the  Yonah  from  Etowah  to  King- 
ston, and  Captain  Fuller  gives  them  great  credit  for  their 
loyalty  and  faithful  service. 

A more  dangerous  run  was  never  made.  The  track 
was  in  a bad  condition,  and  the  line  quite  crooked ; and 
the  pursuers  could  not  tell  at  what  moment  they  might 
be  thrown  into  a ditch  by  a removal  of  rails,  or  ob- 
structions placed  upon  the  track ; but  they  were  abso- 
lutely blind  to  all  personal  danger  or  considerations. 
The  Yonah  had  only  two  drivers  and  they  were  six 
feet,  and  she  had  a very  short  strike.  She  was  built  for 
fast  running  with  a small  passenger  train  on  an  easy 
grade.  Under  all  the  difficulties  by  which  he  was  sur- 
rounded, Hilly  ran  the  Yonah  from  Etowah  to  Kings- 
ton, thirteen  miles  in  fourteen  minutes,  and  came  to  a 
full  stop  at  Cartersville,  and  also  at  Kingston.  Several 
crossties  had  been  put  upon  the  track,  but  the  pursuers 
said  “they  were  literally  blown  away  as  the  Yonah  split 
the  wind.” 

At  Kingston,  Captain  Fuller  learned  that  he  was 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


335 


only  twenty  minutes  behind  the  raiders.  At  this  point, 
Andrews  had  represented  himself  as  a Confederate  of- 
ficer. He  told  the  railroad  agent  that  he  “passed  Ful- 
ler’s train  at  Atlanta,  and  that  the  cars  which  he  had 
contained  fixed  ammunition  for  General  Beauregard  at 
Corinth.”  He  carried  a red  flag  on  “The  General,”  and 
said  that  “Fuller’s  train  was  behind  with  the  regular 
passenger  train.” 

This  plausible  story  induced  the  agent  to  give  him 
his  keys  to  unlock  the  switch  at  the  north  end  of  the 
Kingston  railroad  yard.  Several  heavy  freight  trains 
were  at  Kingston,  bound  southward.  Those  furthest 
behind  reached  a mile  or  so  north  of  the  switch  on  the 
main  line.  Owing  to  Andrew’s  “fixed  ammunition” 
story,  the  agent,  being  a patriotic  man,  ordered  all  trains 
to  pull  by,  so  as  to  let  Andrews  out  at  the  north  end  of 
the  yard.  This  was  done  as  quickly  as  possible,  though 
it  was  difficult  to  make  the  railroad  men  understand 
why  the  great  haste,  and  why  Andrews  should  be  let 
pass  at  so  much  trouble  when  Fuller’s  train  would  soon 
be  along,  and  both  could  be  passed  at  the  same  time. 
But  Andrews’s  business  was  so  urgent,  and  so  vitally 
important,  as  a renewal  of  the  fight  between  Beauregard 
and  Buell  was  expected  at  any  hour,  the  freightmen 
were  induced  to  pull  by  and  let  him  out.  This  delay 
gave  Captain  Fuller  an  inestimable  advantage,  and  but 
for  the  delay  at  Moon’s  Station,  Andrews  and  his  raid- 
ers would  have  been  captured  at  Kingston. 

When  Fuller  arrived  at  Kingston  on  the  Yonah,  he 
was  stopped  by  a flagman  more  than  a mile  south  of  the 


336 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


depot,  on  account  of  the  trains  that  had  pulled  by  to  let 
Andrews  out.  He  saw  at  once  that  he  would  have  to 
abandon  the  Yonah,  as  he  could  not  get  her  by  without 
much  delay.  So  taking  to  his  feet  again,  he  ran  around 
those  freight  trains  to  the  depot  and  held  a short  con- 
versation with  the  agent  from  whom  he  learned  the  par- 
ticulars of  Andrews’s  movements  and  representations, 
etc.  He  then  ran  to  the  north  prong  of  the  Rome  rail- 
road “Y,”  where  that  road  intersected  with  the  Western 
and  Atlantic  main  line.  There  he  found  “The  Alfred 
Shorter,”  the  Rome  railroad  engine,  fired  up  and  ready 
to  move.  He  hurriedly  told  Wyley  Harbin,  the  engi- 
neer of  “The  Alfred  Shorter,”  about  the  raiders,  and 
he  and  his  fireman,  noble  fellows,  at  once  put  them- 
selves and  their  engine  at  his  service.  The  pursuers 
were  gone  in  thirty  seconds.  Captain  Fuller  says  that 
Jeff  Cain  got  into  the  train,  but  that  Mr.  Murphy  who 
was  in  another  part  of  the  car  yard,  considering  some 
other  plan,  came  near  being  left ; but  Fuller  saw  him  and 
held  Harbin  up  until  he  ran  up  and  got  on. 

Captain  Fuller  rode  on  the  cowcatcher  of  the 
“Shorter,”  that  he  might  remove  crossties  and  other 
obstructions  that  would  probably  be  put  on  the  track.  Fur- 
ther down  the  road,  when  Andrews  was  running  more 
at  leisure,  he  loaded  the  three  box  cars  with  ties  and 
other  timber,  and  when  he  feared  pursuit  he  punched 
out  the  rear  end  of  his  hindermost  car  and  dropped  ob- 
structions in  the  way  of  his  pursuers.  The  Alfred 
Shorter  had  drivers  only  four  feet — 6 — , and  could  make 
only  ordinary  time ; but  Captain  Fuller  did  not  consider 
that  of  any  great  disadvantage,  as  she  ran  as  fast  as  it 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


337 


was  safe  to  do  on  account  of  the  many  obstructions 
dropped  by  raiders  upon  that  part  of  the  road. 

Six  miles  north  of  Kingston,  Captain  fuller  found  it 
necessary  to  abandon  the  “Shorter,”  because  at  that 
point  several  rails  of  the  track  had  been  taken  up  and 
carried  away  by  the  raiders.  Knowing  the  schedule  as 
he  did,  and  seeing  he  could  not  get  by  in  less  time  than 
thirty  minutes,  Captain  Fuller  decided  that  the  best 
thing  to  be  done  was  to  go  to  Adairsville,  four  miles 
north,  where  he  hoped  to  find  a south-bound  train,  “tied 
up”  because  of  the  delay  of  his  train.  Possibly  he  might 
meet  this  train  before  reaching  Adairsville.  Leaving 
the  “Shorter,”  he  called  upon  all  who  wished  to  join  in 
one  more  effort  to  follow  him,  and  started  in  a run  on 
foot  for  another  four  miles.  There  were  none  to  fol- 
low— all  preferred  to  remain  in  the  Rome  passenger 
coach.  (It  is  not  amiss  here  to  state  that,  at  Kingston, 
Fuller  took  on  one  coach  belonging  to  the  Rome  Rail- 
road, and  that  some  thirty  or  forty  persons  had  volun- 
teered and  boarded  the  Rome  car;  but,  when  invited  to 
join  in  a four-mile  foot  race,  they  preferred  to  remain 
in  the  coach.) 

When  Fuller  had  run  about  two  miles  he  looked 
back  and  saw  Murphy  just  rounding  a curve  about  three 
hundred  yards  behind.  When  lie  had  run  about  a mile 
further,  to  his  great  delight  he  met  the  expected  south- 
bound freight  train.  Fuller  gave  the  signal,  and,  having 
a gun  in  his  hand,  was  recognized  by  the  conductor,  who 
stopped  as  quickly  as  possible.  Fortunately  Peter  I. 
Brachen  was  the  engineer  of  the  freight,  and  had  “The 
Texas,”  a Danforth  & Cook,  5 feet  10  driver,  as  his  en- 
gine. Captain  Fuller  knew  that  Brachen  was  a cool. 


338 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


level-headed  man,  and  one  of  the  best  runners  that  ever 
pulled  a throttle.  As  soon  as  the  train  stopped,  Fuller 
mounted  and  was  about  to  back  it,  when,  seeing  Mur- 
phy coming,  he  held  Brachen  a few  seconds  until  his 
comrade  got  on  “The  Texas.”  Then  the  long  train  was 
pushed  back  to  Adairsville,  where  Fuller  changed  the 
switch,  uncoupled  the  train  from  the  engine,  and  pushed 
in  upon  the  side  track.  In  the  further  pursuit  of  the 
raiders,  Captain  Fuller  never  changed  his  engine  or  his 
crew  again. 

From  hence  “The  Texas”  is  after  “The  General” — 
both  are  new,  both  5 feet  10  driver,  with  the  same 
stroke — “The  General”  a Rogers,  “The  Texas”  a Dan- 
forth  & Cook.  But  “The  General”  was  forward,  while 
“The  Texas”  had  to  back. 

Captain  Fuller  rode  on  the  back  end  of  the  tender, 
which  was  in  front,  and  swung  from  corner  to  corner, 
so  that  he  could  see  round  the  curves  and  signal  to 
Brachen.  His  only  chance  to  hold  on  was  by  two  hooks, 
one  at  each  corner  of  the  tender,  such  as  were  formerly 
used  to  secure  “spark  catchers.”  Many  times  he 
bounced  two  feet  high  when  the  tender  ran  over  ob- 
structions not  seen  in  time  to  stop  the  engine.  The  ten 
miles  from  Adairsville  to  Calhoun  was  made  in  twelve 
minutes,  including  the  time  consumed  in  removing  ob- 
structions. (Here  it  may  be  in  order  to  state  that  when 
Andrews  had  met  Brachen  at  Adairsville,  on  his  south- 
bound trip  before  being  met  by  Fuller,  that  he  told  him 
to  hurry  to  Kingston,  as  Fuller  would  wait  there  for 
him.  This  Brachen  was  doing,  when  Captain  Fuller 
met  him  a mile  south  of  Adairsville.  But  if  Fuller  had 
not  met  and  stopped  him,  he  would  not  have  gone  on 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


339 


to  Kingston,  but  would  have  plunged  into  the  break  in 
the  railroad  where  the  raiders  had  taken  up  the  rails  at 
the  point  where  the  “Shorter”  was  abandoned.  This 
was  one  of  Andrews’  best  moves.  He  hoped  to  occasion 
a disastrous  wreck,  and  block  the  road.) 

As  Captain  Fuller  with  “The  Texas”  and  her  crew 
figure  exclusively  in  the  remainder  of  this  wonderful 
chase,  he  thinks  it  eminently  due  them  that  the  names 
of  those  actually  engaged  on  the  engine  should  be  given. 
Federal  reports  of  the  affair  have  put  under  the  com- 
mand of  Fuller  a regiment  or  more  of  armed  soldiers. 
Some  illustrations  show  long  trains  of  cars  packed  to 
overflowing  with  armed  men. 

From  the  time  he  stopped  Brachen,  a mile  south  of 
Adairsville,  to  the  point  where  Andrews  abandoned  “The 
General,”  three  miles  north  of  Ringgold,  he  had  with 
him  only  Peter  J.  Brachen  as  engineer,  Henry  Haney, 
fireman  of  the  engine  (who,  at  the  suggestion  of 
Brachen,  stood  at  the  brakes  of  the  tender,  and  had  for 
additional  leverage  a piece  of  timber  run  through  the 
spokes  of  the  brake-wheel),  Flem  Cox,  an  engineer  on 
the  road,  who  happened  to  be  along,  and  fired  the  “Tex- 
as,” and  Alonzo  Martin,  train  hand  of  the  freight  train 
left  at  Adairsville,  who  passed  wood  to  Cox.  Thus  it  is 
seen  that  Captain  Fuller,  Peter  J.  Brachen,  Flem  Cox, 
and  Alonzo  Martin  were  the  members  of  the  pursuing 
party  in  toto,  during  the  last  fifty-five  miles  of  the 
chase. 

As  has  been  stated,  Mr.  Anthony  Murphy,  of  At- 
lanta, rode  on  “The  Texas”  with  Brachen  from  Adairs- 
ville to  the  point  at  which  the  Andrews’  raiders  were 
caught,  and  there  is  no  doubt  he  would  have  aided  in 


340 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


their  capture  at  the  forfeit  of  his  life  had  he  been  called 
upon  to  do  so. 

As  the  pursuers  ran  past  Calhoun,  an  enthusiastic 
old  gentleman,  Mr.  Richard  Peters,  himself  a Northern 
man,  and  who  died  an  honored  citizen  of  Atlanta,  of- 
fered a reward  of  a hundred  dollars  each  for  all  the 
raiders  captured.  Had  this  promise  been  fulfilled  Cap- 
tain Fuller  would  have  received  $2,300,  which  no  doubt 
he  wo'uld  have  divided  with  his  comrades  in  the  pur- 
suit. 

At  Calhoun  Captain  Fuller  met  the  south-bound 
“day  passenger  train,”  delayed  by  his  unexpected  move- 
ments. He  had  his  engine  run  slowly  by  the  depot,  and 
exchanged  a few  words  with  the  excited  crowd  of  peo- 
ple, who  were  amazed  at  the  sudden  appearance  and 
disappearance  of  the  runaway  train  which  had  passed 
there  a few  moments  before.  Here  he  also  saw  Ed 
Henderson,  the  telegraph  operator  at  Dalton.  Discover- 
ing that  the  line  was  down  below  Dalton,  Henderson  had 
gone  down  on  the  passenger  train  to  try  to  repair  the 
break  in  the  wire.  Seeing  him,  Fuller  reached  out  his 
hand  as  he  was  running  by  and  took  the  operator  into  the 
tender,  and  as  they  ran  at  the  rate  of  a mile  a minute 
he  wrote  the  following  dispatch : 

“To  General  Ledbetter,  Chattanooga: 

My  train  was  captured  this  morning  at  Big  Shanty, 
evidently  by  Federal  soldiers  in  disguise.  They  are 
making  rapidly  for  Chattanooga,  and  will  no  doubt  burn 
the  Chickamauga  bridges  in  their  rear,  if  I should  fail 
to  capture  them.  Please  see  that  they  do  not  pass  Chat- 
tanooga. Signed,  W.  A.  Fuller.” 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


341 


He  handed  this  dispatch  to  the  operator,  and  in- 
structed him  to  put  it  through  at  all  hazards  when  he 
should  arrive  at  Dalton. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  pursuers  came  in  sight  of 
the  raiders  for  the  first  time.  They  had  halted  two  miles 
north  of  Calhoun  and  were  removing  a rail  from  the 
track.  As  the  pursuers  hove  in  sight,  the  raiders  de- 
tached their  third  car  and  left  it  before  Captain  Fuller 
could  reach  them.  Coupling  this  abandoned  car  to  “The 
Texas,”  Captain  Fuller  got  on  top  of  it  and  began  the 
race  again.  The  rails  had  only  been  loosened  and  tEe 
intrepid  conductor  took  the  chances  of  running  over 
them.  From  this  point  the  raiders  ran  at  a fearful  rate, 
and  the  pursuers  followed  after  them  as  fast  as  “The 
Texas”  could  go. 

One  mile  and  a half  further  up,  the  raiders  de- 
tached another  car  in  the  front  of  the  pursuers.  This 
was  witnessed  by  Fuller,  who  was  standing  on  the  rear 
end  of  the  car  he  had  coupled  to  when  the  raiders  were 
first  seen.  He  gave  Brachen  the  signal  and  he  advanced 
slowly  to  the  abandoned  car  and  coupled  it  to  the  first 
one  obtained  in  this  way.  Then  getting  on  top  of  the 
newly  captured  one  he  was  off  again  in  the  race  with 
scarcely  the  loss  of  a moment’s  time. 

Just  in  front  of  the  raiders,  and  not  more  than  a 
mile  away,  was  an  important  railroad  bridge  over  the 
Oostanaula  River  at  Resaca.  The  pursuers  had  greatly 
feared  that  the  raiders  would  gain  time  to  burn  this 
bridge,  after  passing  over  it.  But  they  were  pressed 
so  hotly  and  so  closely  that  they  passed  over  the  bridge 


342 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


as  rapidly  as  the  “General”  could  carry  them.  The  pur- 
suers were,  therefore,  greatly  rejoiced  on  their  arrival 
at  Resaca  to  see  that  the  bridge  was  standing,  and  that 
it  had  not  been  set  on  fire.  The  two  cars  picked  up  as 
described  were  switched  off  at  Resaca,  and  the  pursuers 
again  had  “The  Texas”  untrammeled.  The  race  from 
Resaca  to  Dalton  has  seldom  been  parallelled.  It  is  im- 
possible to  describe  it. 

At  Dalton  the  telegraph  operator  was  dropped,  with 
instructions  to  put  the  dispatch  to  General  Ledbetter 
through  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  matter.  All  was 
excitement  at  this  point.  The  unusual  spectacle  of  a 
wild  engine  flying  through  the  town  with  only  one  car 
attached  was  bewildering  indeed ; and  when  Captain 
Fuller  arrived  and  ran  through,  slacking  his  speed  just 
enough  to  put  the  operator  off  the  train,  the  excitement 
became  intense.  The  operator  was  beseiged  on  every  side 
for  an  explanation,  but  he  knew  nothing  save  that  con- 
tained in  the  dispatch. 

Two  miles  north  of  Dalton,  Andrews  stopped.  Some 
of  his  men  climbed  telegraph  poles  and  cut  the  wire, 
while  others  were  engaged  in  an  effort  to  take  up  the 
track  behind  them.  The  operator  at  Dalton  had  sent  the 
dispatch  through  to  Ledbetter  at  Chattanooga;  but  just 
as  he  had  finished  and  was  holding  his  finger  on  the  key, 
waiting  for  the  usual  “O.  K.,”  click  went  the  key,  and 
all  was  dead.  He  did  not  know  until  the  next  day  that 
Captain  Fuller’s  dispatch  had  reached  its  destination. 
Had  the  raiders  been  thirty  seconds  earlier  in  cutting 
the  wire,  the  dispatch  would  not  have  gone  through. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


343 


As  it  was  Ledbetter  received  it,  and  not  being  able  to 
hear  anything  further  by  telegraph  or  otherwise,  he  had 
a regiment  placed  in  ambush  (some  of  the  soldiers  on 
either  side  of  the  track),  and  had  a considerable  part 
of  the  track  taken  up.  This  was  about  a mile  from  Chat- 
tanooga, so  that  by  the  intervention  of  the  telegram 
Fuller  had  Andrews  both  front  and  rear. 

Andrews  was  run  away  from  the  point  where  the 
wires  were  cut  before  any  material  damage  was  done 
to  the  track.  The  rails  had  been  partially  removed,  but 
not  so  much  as  to  prevent  the  safe  passage  over  them 
of  “The  Texas”  and  her  crew. 

Now  the  last  long  race  begins.  The  pursued  and  the 
pursuers  are  in  sight  of  one  another.  In  every  straight 
line  of  the  road,  Andrews  was  in  plain  view.  This 
tended  to  increase  the  interest  and  excitement,  if,  in- 
deed, the  thrilling  scenes  and  incidents  of  the  seconds 
as  they  flitted  by  could  have  been  heightened.  I say 
seconds,  because  minutes  in  this  case  would  be  too  large 
to  use  for  a unit  of  time.  The  experience,  practice,  and 
knowledge  of  machinery  possessed  by  the  engineers  was 
brought  into  full  play.  “The  Texas”  was  kept  at  a 
rate  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  pounds  of  steam, 
with  the  valve  wide  open.  Brachen  would  appear  a little 
pale  sometimes,  but  he  was  encouraged  by  Fuller  stand- 
ing the  full  length  of  the  tender  before  him,  and  watch- 
ing around  the  curves.  At  every  straight  line  in  the 
road  Andrews  was  sighted,  and  a yell  went  up  from  the 
throats  of  the  pursuers,  but  they  did  not  lose  their  wits. 
Their  aim  was  forward,  onward,  at  all  hazards.  They 


314 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


were  now  convinced  that  Andrews  had  exhausted  his 
supply  of  obstructive  material,  and  were  not  so  uneasy 
on  that  account.  But  as  prudence  is  the  better  part  of 
valor,  and  as  they  had  so  few  men  on  board,  they  dared 
not  approach  too  close,  lest  their  little  band  should 
be  fired  upon ; or  what  appeared  to  be  a greater  danger, 
Andrews  might  suddenly  stop  and  give  fight.  Captain 
Fuller  had  only  five  persons  on  “The  Texas”  besides 
himself,  and  all  accounts  heard  by  them  at  points  be- 
low had  placed  Andrews’s  party  as  high  as  twenty  or 
twenty-five.  Fuller  knew  that  the  fire-arms  he  had  gath- 
ered up  early  in  the  race,  such  as  “squirrel  guns,”  and 
most  of  them  unloaded,  would  have  but  little  showing 
in  a hand-to-hand  contest ; so  these  things  had  to  be  con- 
sidered as  they  sped  along  swiftly.  Another  danger 
was  to  be  feared — Andrews  might  stop,  abandon  “The 
General,”  let  her  drive  back,  and  thus  force  a collision 
with  the  pursuers. 

In  approaching  the  tunnel,  seven  miles  north  of 
Dalton,  our  brave  conductor  slackened  speed  until  he 
could  see  dimly  through  the  smoke  of  “The  General,” 
which  had  only  passed  out  of  the  further  end  by  a few 
seconds,  and  was  in  sight  beyond.  For  the  next  seven 
miles  from  Tunnel  Hill  to  Ringgold,  nothing  occurred 
except  a race  between  engines  such  as  has  never  been 
excelled.  When  Ringgold  was  reached,  both  engines 
literally  flew  through  the  town,  the  “Texas”  only  about 
one-fourth  of  a mile  behind.  When  the  pursuers  were 
passing  through  the  north  end  of  the  town,  Captain  Ful- 
ler noticed  a company  of  militia  drilling.  Their  horses 
were  hitched  to  the  small  shade  trees  near  the  mustei 
grounds,  and  this  fact  fastened  itself  upon  his  mind. 


) ,, 

DURING  THE  WAR.  345 

In  a few  minutes  the  pursuers  swung  around  the  sec- 
ond short  curve  north  of  Ringgold,  just  in  time  to  see 
Andrews  slack  his  speed,  and  himself  and  his  men  jump 
off  the  “General”  to  seek  concealment  in  the  dense 
woods.  The  foliage  of  the  trees  and  undergrowth  was 
about  half  grown,  and  it  would  have  been  an  easy  mat- 
ter to  hide  in  the  forest.  When  the  raiders  were  first 
seen  north  of  Ringgold,  it  was  obvious  that  the  heroic 
old  “General”  was  almost  exhausted.  Her  smoke  was 
nearly  white,  and  ran  up  at  an  angle  of  45  degrees,  while 
before  that  it  lay  flat,  and  appeared  to  the  eyes  of  the 
pursuers  as  if  fresh  from  the  stack.  When  Andrews 
abandoned  the  “General,”  his  engineer  threw  the  lever 
back  and  gave  the  engine  all  the  steam  it  had,  but  in  his 
haste  the  brake  was  left  on,  so  the  engine  was  unable 
to  drive  back  and  collide  with  the  “Texas,”  as  Andrews 
had  hoped  it  would. 

The  pursuers  ran  up  to  the  “General”  to  which  was 
attached  one  box  car — the  one  historians  and  statesmen 
have  so  often  said  was  fired  and  left  to  burn  in  a bridge 
below  Ringgold.  This  car  had  been  fired,  but  was  easily 
extinguished.  It  had  never  been  uncoupled  from  the 
“General”  since  Fuller  left  Atlanta  with  it  that  morn- 
ing. Brachen  hastily  coupled  the  “Texas”  to  this  car 
and  the  “General.”  Captain  Fuller  reminded  Brachen 
of  the  militia  company  they  had  seen  drilling  at  Ring- 
gold  a few  minutes  before,  and  encouraged  him  to  go 
back  there  as  soon  as  possible  and  tell  of  the  capture 
of  the  “General,”  and  to  beseech  the  soldiers  to  mount 
their  horses  and  come  to  his  aid,  as  he,  Flem  Cox  and 
Alonzo  Martin  were  already  chasing  through  the  woods 
after  Andrews  and  his  men.  Mr.  Murphy  and  Henry 


346 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Haney  went  back  to  Ringgold  with  Brachen  after  the 
militia. 

It  was  probably  three  minutes  after  the  “General” 
was  overtaken  before  Captain  Fuller  and  his  two  com- 
rades were  ready  to  take  to  the  woods,  as  they  assisted 
in  getting  the  car  and  two  engines  started  back  to  Ring- 
gold.  The  raiders,  therefore,  had  the  advantage  and 
were  deep  in  the  forest  before  the  woodland  chase  be- 
gan. Besides,  the  reader  will  see  at  once  that  the  raiders 
were  fresh — that  they  had  done  no  really  hard  work, 
except  the  fireman  and  the  engineer.  They  had  not  al- 
ready run  on  foot  more  than  twenty  miles,  as  Fuller 
had  done.  After  the  pursuing  party  had  gone  about  two 
miles  through  the  woods,  they  came  to  a fifty-acre  wheat 
field  just  in  time  to  see  the  raiders  cross  the  fence  at  the 
further  side.  It  had  been  raining  nearly  all  day,  and  the 
ground  was  wet.  It  was  limestone  soil,  and  almost  as 
sticky  as  tar.  The  boots  of  the  pursuers  would  clog  up, 
and  the  mud  on  them  would  sometimes  weigh  doubt- 
less two  or  three  pounds.  Another  source  of  annoyance 
was  the  growing  wheat,  which  was  half  leg  high  and 
very  difficult  to  tread.  Captain  Fuller  has  said  that  it 
appeared  to  be  up-hill  every  way  that  he  ran. 

Finally  the  woods  beyond  were  reached,  and,  by  ac- 
cident, Captain  Fuller  and  his  two  comrades  got  sepa- 
rated. In  the  afternoon  four  of  the  raiders  were  cap- 
tured. About  8 p.  m.  Captain  Fuller  became  completely 
exhausted.  Some  old  farmers  put  him  on  a mule  and 
carried  him  back  to  Ringgold,  distant  seven  miles  di- 
rect route,  but  by  the  one  he  was  carried  three  times 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


347 


that  distance.  He  lay  down  on  the  mule’s  back,  and  a 
man  on  either  side  held  him  on. 

Soon  after  they  arrived  at  Ringgold  the  down  night 
passenger  train  came,  and  Captain  Fuller  was  put  on 
board  and  carried  to  Atlanta.  At  Tunnel  Hill,  seven 
miles  south,  a train  of  soldiers  passed  them  on  the  way 
to  the  scene  of  interest.  The  Andrews  Raiders  had  al- 
ready been  captured,  and  the  “General”  was  safe  on  the 
side  track  at  Ringgold,  eight  hours  before.  And  this 
train  of  soldiers  just  spoken  of  is  “the  second  pursuing 
train”  that  Pittenger  so  often  speaks  of  in  his  “Captur- 
ing a Locomotive,”  and  “Daring  and  Suffering.” 

We  have  followed  Captain  Fuller  and  his  wise  and 
intrepid  men,  in  the  pursuit  of  spies  no  less  wise  and  in- 
trepid, from  the  first  step  in  an  act  which,  under  the 
usages  of  war  in  all  countries,  meant  death  to  them  if 
captured;  and  over  that  lamentable  scene  we  drop  the 
curtain.  We  have  the  testimony  of  reliable  men  that 
they  were  humanly  treated  while  in  prison.  After  a 
trial,  conducted  on  the  highest  principles  of  military  law 
and  honor,  eight  of  these  spies  were  condemned  and  ex- 
ecuted. 

The  following  list  gives  the  names  of  the  Andrews 
Raiders,  all  of  whom  were  captured  in  the  manner  de- 
scribed. 


J.  J.  Andrews, 

Wilson  Brown, 

Marion  Ross, 

W.  H.  Campbell, 

These  were  tried  and 


John  Scott, 

Perry  G.  Shadrack, 
George  D.  Wilson, 
Samuel  Slavens, 

executed. 


348 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


S.  Robinson, 

Ed.  Mason, 

Wm  Knight, 
Robert  Bruffum, 
William  Pittenger, 
M.  J.  Hawkins, 

I.  Parroth, 


W.  Bensinger, 
A.  Wilson, 

W.  Reddie, 

D.  A.  Dorsey, 
I.  R.  Porter, 

M.  Wood, 

W.  W.  Brown. 


The  last  named  fourteen  were  never  tried. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


CONFEDERATE  LOVE  SONG. 


Over  the  mountains  of  Winter, 

And  the  cold,  cold  plains  of  snow, 

Down  in  the  valleys  of  Summer, 

Calling  my  love  I go. 

And  strong  in  my  woe  and  passion, 

I climb  up  the  hills  of  Spring, 

To  listen  if  I hear  his  voice 
In  songs  he  used  to  sing. 

I wait  in  the  fields  of  Autumn, 

And  gather  a feast  of  fruit, 

And  call  my  love  to  the  banquet ; 

His  lips  are  cold  and  mute. 

I say  to  the  wild  bird  flying: 

“My  darling  sang  sweet  as  you; 

Fly  o’er  the  earth  in  search  of  him, 
And  to  the  skies  of  blue.” 

I say  to  the  wild-wood  flowers : 
cMy  love  was  a friend  to  you; 

Send  one  of  your  fragrant  spirits 
To  the  cool  Isles  of  Dew,” 

“Gold-girt  by  a belt  of  moonbeams, 

And  seek  on  their  gleaming  shore 

A breath  of  the  vanished  sweetness 
For  me  his  red  lips  bore.” 

I stand  at  the  gates  of  Morning, 

When  the  radiant  angel,  Light, 

Draws  back  the  great  bolt  of  darkness, 
And  by  the  gates  of  Night, 

When  the  hands  of  bright  stars  tremble 
While  clasping  their  lanterns  bright; 

And  I hope  to  see  him  passing, 

And  touch  his  garments  white. 


350 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


0,  love!  if  you  hear  me  calling, 

Flee  not  from  the  wailing  cry; 

Come  from  the  grottoes  of  Silence 
And  hear  me,  or  I die! 

Stand  out  on  the  hills  of  Echo; 

The  sensitive,  pulsing  air 
Will  thrill  at  your  softest  whisper — 

Speak  to  me,  love,  from  there! 

0,  love,  if  I hear  you  calling, 

Though  far  on  the  heavenly  side, 

My  voice  will  float  on  the  billow: 

“Come  to  your  spirit  bride.” 

— Maky  A.  H.  Gay. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


351 


TO  THE  READER, 


Who  has  kindly  perused  these  sketches,  I would  say, 
as  they  have  already  attained  length  and  breadth  not 
anticipated  from  the  beginning,  I will  withhold  the  se- 
quels to  many  of  them  for,  perhaps,  another  volume  of 
reminiscences. 

Were  I possessed  of  the  Sam  Weller  genius  and  ver- 
satility, and  the  happy  faculty  of  making  the  reader  wish 
I had  written  more,  I would  throw  open  the  doors  of 
the  store-house  of  my  war  memories,  a structure  as  capa- 
cious as  the  “Southern  Confederacy”  and  canopied  by 
the  firmament,  and  invite  the  public  to  enter  and  share 
with  me  the  treasures  hidden  there.  The  corruscations 
of  wit  and  the  profound  displays  of  wisdom  by  many 
who  donned  Confederate  grey  and  went  forth  in  man- 
hood’s prime  to  battle  for  the  principles  of  their  coun- 
try, would  employ  the  minds  and  feast  the  intellect  of 
the  most  erudite.  There  are  living,  glowing  pictures 
hanging  upon  the  walls  which  delineate  the  mysteries  of 
humanity  in  all  its  varied  forms,  and,  by  example,  dem- 
onstrate that  we  often  spurn  with  holy  horror  that 
which  is  better  far  than  that  which  we  embrace  with  all 
the  fervor  of  affection.  I would  resurrect  the  loftiest 
patriotism  from  the  most  humble  graves  in  the  Southern 
land,  and  prove  by  heroic  deeds  and  noble  acts  that 
valor  on  the  battle-field  was  as  often  illustrated  by  the 


352 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


humble  soldier  whose  name  has  not  been  preserved  in 
“storied  urn,”  as  by  the  gallant  son  of  chivalrous  an- 
cestors who  commanded  the  applause  of  an  admiring 
multitude.  I would  place  by  the  side  of  those  greatest 
of  chieftains,  Robert  E.  Lee,  and  our  impregnable 
“Stonewall”  Jackson  and  Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  many 
of  our  soldiers  “unknown  to  fame,”  in  faded  grey  jack- 
ets and  war-worn  pants,  and  challenge  the  world  for  the 
difference.  I would  dwell  with  loving  interest  upon  the 
innumerable  sad,  sweet  faces  of  the  mighty  throng  of 
bereaved  mothers,  sisters  and  aunts,  out  of  whose  lives 
all  light  had  gone,  and  who,  though  hopeless,  uttered 
no  words  of  complaint  against  our  cause  or  its  leader, 
but  toiled  on  with  unswerving  faith  and  souls  that 
borrowed  the  lustre  of  heaven.  All  these  sad  things 
in  my  gallery  I would  clothe  in  living  form  and  glow- 
ing color.  And,  saddest  of  all,  I would  live  over  with 
them  that  melancholy  period  when  the  very  few,  com- 
paratively, that  were  left  of  the  noble  defenders  of  our 
principles,  came  back,  not  with  buoyant  step  and  victor 
crown,  but  with  blighted  hopes  and  despondent  mien  to 
desolated  homes  and  decimated  families.  Under  the  new 
regime  I would  tell  of  despair  and  suicide,  of  hope,  en- 
ergy and  success ; I would  tell  how  I have  lived  in 
this  gallery — its  silent  occupants  my  companions  and 
friends,  my  inspiration  to  useful  deeds.  There  is  not  a 
day  that  I do  not  arouse  by  muffled  tread  the  slumber- 
ing echoes  of  this  past,  and  look  upon  the  cherished 
souvenirs  of  the  patriotic  friends  now  roaming  the  beau- 
tiful gardens  of  Paradise,  or  sleeping  the  mystic  waiting 
of  the  resurrection.  I ponder  upon  their  lives,  their  am- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


353 


bitions,  their  disappointments,  and  it  requires  no  effort 
of  the  imagination  to  animate  those  dead  forms  and  in- 
vest them  with  living  attributes.  And  daily,  in  imagi- 
nation I weave  for  them  a laurel  crown  that  shall  grow 
greener  and  greener  as  the  cycles  of  Time  speed  on  to 
Eternity. 


354 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


APPENDIX. 


The  author  has  selected  the  article,  “Gleanings  from 
General  Sherman’s  Despatches,”  as  an  appendix  for 
these  sketches,  not  because  of  a desire  to  keep  up  the 
issues  of  the  war  between  the  States  (for  she  would 
gladly  bury  them  so  deep  they  could  never  be  resur- 
rected until  the  great  Judge  of  all  issues  calls  them  up 
to  receive  sentence  by  his  unerring  judgment),  but 
rather,  because  of  the  persistent  insistence  of  Northern 
Republicans  to  make  it  appear  to  the  world  that  the 
Southern  people  are  a semi-barbarous  people,  solely  re- 
sponsible for  the  war  and  altogether  unworthy  fraternal 
consideration  in  the  compact  called  the  Union. 

The  article  mentioned,  “Gleanings  from  General 
Sherman's  Despatches,”  is  to  be  found,  word  for  word, 
in  The  Southern  Magazine,  May,  1873,  Vol.  XII.  Bal- 
timore: Turnbull  Brothers. 


GLEANINGS  FROM  GENERAL  SHERMAN’S 
DESPATCHES. 

Those  thick,  loosely-bound  octavos  printed  on  soft 
and  rather  dingy  paper,  which  Congress  publishes  and 
distributes  under  the  name  of  Public  Documents,  are 
not  generally  considered  very  entertaining  reading. 
But  there  are  exceptions ; and  one  of  these  is  the  report 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


355 


of  the  joint  committee  of  Congress  on  the  conduct  of 
the  war.  Indeed,  compared  with  such  mild  pastorals 
as  “Some  Accounts  of  the  Cheese  Manufacture  in  Cen- 
tral New  York,”  or  “Remarks  on  the  Cultivation  of  Al- 
falfa in  Western  Tennessee,”  it  is  quite  luridly  sensa- 
tional, and  in  parts  reminds  us  of  those  striking  reports 
of  the  Duke  of  Alva  to  his  royal  master,  which  have 
been  disinterred  in  the  dusty  archives  of  Simancas.  As 
a study  of  congressional  nature,  military  nature,  and 
human  nature  generally,  in  its  least  attractive  aspects, 
these  eight  stout  volumes  are  richly  worth  perusal.  Here 
the  reader  is  allowed  to  peep  behind  the  scenes  of  that 
portentous  drama;  here  he  may  see  the  threads  of  the 
intrigues  that  centered  in  Washington;  may  hear  a petty 
newspaper  correspondent  demonstrating,  with  an  anima- 
tion that  we  can  scarcely  ascribe  to  fervid  patriotism, 
the  incapacity,  the  ignorance  and  even  the  doubtful  “loy- 
alty” of  the  commander-in-chief ; may  see  private  ma- 
lignity and  vindictiveness  putting  on  grand  Roman  airs, 
and  whispering  debaters  draping  themselves  in  the  toga 
of  Brutus. 

However,  it  is  not  with  these  aspects  of  the  reports 
that  we  at  present  have  to  do,  but  with  the  despatches 
of  General  Sherman  on  his  march  through  Georgia  and 
South  Carolina.  A great  deal  of  fiction  and  some  verse,* 
we  believe,  have  been  written  about  this  famous  march 
or  grand  foray ; but  here  we  have  the  plain  matter-of- 
fact  statement  of  things  as  they  were,  and  they  form  a 
luminous  illustration  of  the  advance  of  civilization  in 

♦One  of  these  poems,  “ Marching  Through  Georgia,”  we  learn  by  the 
evidence,  was  a favorite  canticle  of  Murray,  the  kidnapper  and  butcher  of 
Captain  Polynesius. 


356 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


the  nineteenth  century  as  exemplified  in  the  conduct  of 
invasions,  showing  how  modern  philanthropy  and  hu- 
manitarianism,  while  acknowledging  that  for  the  present 
war  is  a necessary  evil,  still  strive  to  mitigate  its  hor- 
rors and  spare  all  avoidable  suffering  to  non-combatants. 
For  this  purpose  we  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  re- 
produce a few  of  the  most  striking  extracts  illustrat- 
ing the  man,  his  spirit,  and  his  work. 

A kind  of  keynote  is  sounded  in  the  dispatches  to 
General  Stoneman,  of  May  14,  which,  after  ordering 
him  to  “press  down  the  valley  strong,”  ends  with  the 
words,  “Pick  up  whatever  provisions  and  plunder  you 
can.” 

On  June  3,  the  question  of  torpedoes  is  discussed, 
and  General  Stedman  receives  the  following  instruc- 
tions : “If  torpedoes  are  found  in  the  possession  of  an 
enemy  to  our  rear,  you  may  cause  them  to  be  put  on 
the  ground  and  tested  by  wagon  loads  of  prisoners,  or, 
if  need  be,  by  citizens  implicated  in  their  use.  In  like 
'’aanner,  if  a torpedo  is  suspected  on  any  part  of  the  rail- 
road, order  the  point  to  be  tested  by  a carload  of  pris- 
oners or  citizens  implicated,  drawn  by  a long  rope.” 
“Implicated,”  we  suppose  here  meant  “residing  or  cap- 
tured in  the  neighborhood.” 

On  July  7,  yve  have  an  interesting  dispatch  to  General 
Garrard  on  the  subject  of  the  destruction  of  the  fac- 
tories at  Roswell.  “Their  utter  destruction  is  right,  and 
meets  my  entire  approval ; and  to  make  the  matter  com- 
plete, you  will  arrest  the  owners  and  employers  and  send 
them  under  guard  charged  with  treason,  to  Marietta,  and 
I will  see  as  to  any  man  in  America  hoisting  the  French 
flag  and  then  devoting  his  labor  and  capital  to  supplying 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


357 


armies  in  open  hostility  to  our  government,  and  claim- 
ing the  benefit  of  his  neutral  flag.  Should  you,  under 
the  impulse  of  anger,  natural  at  contemplating  such  per- 
fidy, hang  the  wretch,  I approve  the  act  beforehand. 
...  I repeat  my  orders  that  you  arrest  all  people,  male 
and  female,  connected  with  those  factories,  no  matter 
what  the  clamor,  and  let  them  foot  it,  under  guard,  to 
Marietta,  whence  I will  send  them  by  cars  to  the  North. 
Destroy  and  make  the  same  disposition  of  all  mills,  save 
small  flouring  mills,  manifestly  for  local  use;  but  all  saw 
mills  and  factories  dispose  of  effectually;  and  use- 
ful laborers,  excused  by  reason  of  their  skill  as  manu- 
facturers, from  conscription,  are  as  much  prisoners  as 
if  armed.”  On  the  same  day  he  further  enlarges  on  this 
subject  in  a despatch  to  General  Halleck : 

“General  Garrard  reports  to  me  that  he  is  in  posses- 
sion of  Roswell,  where  were  several  very  valuable  cot- 
ton and  wool  factories  in  full  operation,  also  paper  mills, 
all  of  which,  by  my  order,  he  destroyed  by  fire.  They 
had  been  for  years  engaged  exclusively  at  work  for  the 
Confederate  government ; and  the  owner  of  the  woolen 
factory  displayed  the  French  flag,  but,  as  he  failed  to 
show  the  United  States  flag  also,  General  Garrard 
burned  it  also.  The  main  cotton  factory  was  valued 
at  a million  of  United  States  dollars.  The  cloth  on 
hand  is  reserved  for  the  use  of  the  United  States  hos- 
pitals ; and  I have  ordered  General  Garrard  to  arrest 
for  treason  all  owners  and  employees,  foreign  and  na- 
tive, and  send  them  to  Marietta,  whence  I will  send  them 
North.  Being  exempt  from  conscription,  they  are  as 
much  governed  by  the  rules  of  war  as  if  in  the  ranks. 
The  women  can  find  employment  in  Indiana.  This 


358 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


whole  region  was  devoted  to  manufactories,  but  I will 
destroy  every  one  of  them.”  There  are  two  points 
specially  worth  notice  in  this  despatch.  The  first,  that 
since  these  men  and  women,  by  reason  of  sex,  or  other- 
wise, are  exempt  from  conscription,  they  are,  therefore, 
as  much  subject  to  the  rules  of  war  as  if  in  the  ranks. 
Why  not  do  less  violence  to  logic  and  state  frankly  that 
factory  hands  were  in  demand  in  Indiana?  The  next 
point  is  that  the  Roswell  factories,  whether  French  prop- 
erty or  not,  were  destroyed  because  they  were  making 
cloth  for  the  Confederate  government,  followed  pres- 
ently by  the  declaration  that  every  manufactory  in  that 
region  shall  be  destroyed,  evidently  without  reference  to 
its  products  or  their  destination.  How  much  franker 
d would  have  been  to  have  added  to  this  last  sentence, 
“and  thus  get  rid  of  so  many  competitors  to  the  fac- 
tories of  the  North.”  The  South  must  learn  that  while 
she  may  bear  the  burden  of  protective  tariffs,  she  must 
not  presume  to  share  their  benefits.  Another  despatch 
to  General  Halleck,  of  July  9,  again  refers  to  these  fac- 
tories. After  referring  to  the  English  and  French  own- 
ership, comes  this  remark : “I  take  it  a neutral  is  no  bet- 
ter than  one  of  our  citizens,  and  we  would  not  respect 
the  property  of  one  of  our  own  citizens  engaged  in  sup- 
plying a hostile  army.”  3This  is  the  kind  of  logic  pro- 
verbially used  by  the  masters  of  legions.  A despatch  to 
General  Halleck,  of  July  13,  gives  General  Sherman’s 
opinion  of  two  great  and  philanthropic  institutions. 
Speaking  of  “fellows  hanging  about”  the  army,  he  says: 
“The  Sanitary  and  Christian  Commission  are  enough  to 
eradicate  all  traces  of  Christianity  from  our  minds.” 

July  14,  to  General  J.  E.  Smith,  at  Allatoona:  “If  you 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


359 


entertain  a bare  suspicion  against  any  family,  send  it 
North.  Any  loafer  or  suspicious  person  seen  at  any 
time  should  be  imprisoned  and  sent  off.  If  guerrillas 
trouble  the  road  or  wires  they  should  be  shot  without 
mercy.” 

September  8,  to  General  Webster  after  the  capture  of 
Atlanta : “Don’t  let  any  citizens  come  to  Atlanta ; not 
one.  I won’t  allow  trade  or  manufactures  of  any  kind, 
but  you  will  remove  all  the  present  population,  and  make 
Atlanta  a pure  military  town.”  To  General  Halleck  he 
writes : “I  am  not  willing  to  have  Atlanta  encumbered 
by  the  families  of  our  enemies.”  Of  this  wholesale  de- 
population, General  Hood  complained,  by  flag  of  truce, 
as  cruel  and  contrary  to  the  usages  of  civilized  nations 
and  customs  of  war,  receiving  this  courteous  and  gentle- 
manly reply  (September  12)  : “I  think  I understand  the 
laws  of  civilized  nations  and  the  ‘customs  of  war but,  if 
at  a loss  at  any  time,  I know  where  to  seek  for  informa- 
tion to  refresh  my  memory.”  General  Hood  made  the 
correspondence,  or  part  of  it,  public,  on  which  fact,  Gen- 
eral Sherman  remarks  to  General  Halleck : “Of  course, 
he  is  welcome,  for  the  more  he  arouses  the  indignation 
of  the  Southern  masses,  the  bigger  will  be  the  pill  of 
bitterness  they  will  have  to  swallow.” 

About  the  middle  of  September,  General  Sherman, 
being  still  in  Atlanta,  endeavored  to  open  private  com- 
munication with  Governor  Brown  and  Vice-President 
Stephens,  whom  he  knew  to  be  at  variance  with  the  ad- 
ministration at  Richmond  on  certain  points  of  public  pol- 
icy. Mr.  Stephens  refused  to  reply  to  a verbal  mes- 
sage, but  wrote  to  Mr.  King,  the  intermediary,  that  if 
the  general  would  say  that  there  was  any  prospect  of  their 


360 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


agreeing  upon  “terms  to  be  submitted  to  the  action  of 
their  respective  governments,”  he  would,  as  requested, 
visit  him  in  Atlanta.  The  motives  urged  by  Mr.  King 
were  General  Sherman’s  extreme  desire  for  peace,  and  to 
hit  upon  “some  plan  of  terminating  this  fratricidal  war 
without  the  further  effusion  of  blood.”  But  in  General 
Sherman’s  despatch  of  September  14,  to  Mr.  Lincoln, 
referring  to  these  attempted  negotiations,  the  humanita- 
rian point  of  view  is  scarcely  so  prominent.  He  says : “It 
would  be  a magnificent  stroke  of  policy  if  I could,  with- 
out surrendering  a foot  of  ground  or  principle,  arouse  the 
latent  enmity  to  Davis.” 

On  October  20,  he  writes  to  General  Thomas  from 
Summerville,  giving  an  idea  of  his  plan  of  operations : 
“Out  of  the  forces  now  here  and  at  Atlanta,  I propose 
to  organize  an  efficient  army  of  60,000  to  65,000  men, 
with  which  I propose  to  destroy  Macon,  Augusta,  and  it 
may  be,  Savannah  and  Charleston.  By  this  I propose  to 
demonstrate  the  vulnerability  of  the  South,  and  make  its 
inhabitants  feel  that  war  and  individual  ruin  are  synony- 
mous terms.” 

Despatch  of  October  22,  to  General  Grant  “I  am  now 
perfecting  arrangements  to  put  into  Tennessee  a force 
able  to  hold  the  line  of  the  Tennessee,  while  I break  up 
the  railroad  in  front  of  Dalton,  including  the  city  of  At- 
lanta, and  push  into  Georgia  and  break  up  all  its  railroads 
and  depots,  capture  its  horses  and  negroes,  make  desola- 
tion everywhere ; destroy  the  factories  at  Macon,  Mil- 
ledgeville  and  Augusta,  and  bring  up  with  60,000  men 
on  the  seashore  about  Savannah  and  Charleston.” 

To  General  Thomas,  from  Kingston,  November  2: 
“Last  night  we  burned  Rome,  and  in  two  more  days 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


361 


will  burn  Atlanta”  (which  he  was  then  occupying). 

December  5 : “Blair  can  burn  the  bridges  and  cul- 
verts and  burn  enough  barns  to  mark  the  progress  of 
his  head  of  columns.” 

December  18,  to  General  Grant,  from  near  Savannah : 
“With  Savannah  in  our  possession,  at  some  future  time, 
if  not  now,  we  can  punish  South  Carolina  as  she  de- 
serves, and  as  thousands  of  people  in  Georgia  hope  we 
will  do.  I do  sincerely  believe  that  the  whole  United 
States,  north  and  south,  would  rejoice  to  have  this  army 
turned  loose  on  South  Carolina,  to  devastate  that  State 
in  the  manner  we  have  done  in  Georgia.” 

A little  before  this  he  announces  to  Secretary  Stanton 
that  he  knows  what  the  people  of  the  South  are 
fighting  for.  What  do  our  readers  suppose?  To  ravage 
the  North  with  sword  and  fire,  and  crush  them  under 
their  heel?  Surely  it  must  be  some  such  delusion  that 
inspires  this  ferocity  of  hatred,  unmitigated  by  even  a 
word  of  compassion.  He  may  speak  for  himself : “Jef- 
ferson Davis  has  succeeded  perfectly  in  inspiring  his  peo- 
ple with  the  truth  that  liberty  and  government  are  worth 
fighting  for.”  This  was  their  unpardonable  crime. 

December  22,  to  General  Grant : “If  you  can  hold  Lee, 
I could  go  on  and  smash  South  Carolina  all  to  pieces.” 

On  the  1 8th  General  Halleck  writes:  “Should  you 
capture  Charleston,  I hope  that  by  some  accident  the 
place  may  be  destroyed  ; and  if  a little  salt  should  be  sown 
upon  its  site,  it  may  prevent  the  growth  of  future  crops 
of  nullification  and  secession.”  To  this  General  Sher- 
man replies,  December  24:  “This  war  differs  from  Eu- 
ropean wars  in  this  particular — we  are  not  only  fighting 
hostile  armies,  but  hostile  people ; and  must  make  old 


362 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


and  young,  rich  and  poor,  feel  the  hard  hand  of  war, 
as  well  as  their  organized  armies.  I will  bear  in  mind 
your  hint  as  to  Charleston,  and  don’t  think  salt  will  be 
necessary.  When  I move,  the  Fifteenth  corps  will  be  on 
the  right  of  the  right  wing,  and  their  position  will  nat- 
urally throw  them  into  Charleston  first;  and,  if  you  have 
studied  the  history  of  that  corps,  you  will  have  remarked 
that  they  generally  do  their  work  up  pretty  well.  The 
truth  is,  the  whole  army  is  burning  with  insatiable  desire 
to  wreak  vengeance  upon  South  Carolina.  I almost  trem- 
ble for  her  fate,  but  she  deserves  all  that  seems  in  store 
for  her. 

“I  look  upon  Columbia  as  quite  as  bad  as  Charleston, 
and  I doubt  if  we  shall  spare  the  public  buildings  there 
as  we  did  at  Milledgeville.” 

And  now  we  look  with  interest  for  the  despatches  that 
would  settle  the  vexed  question  as  to  whether  Sherman 
or  his  officers,  acting  under  his  orders,  burned  Columbia 
on  the  17th  of  February.  Unfortunately,  a paternal  gov- 
ernment, not  thinking  it  good  that  the  truth  should  be 
known,  has  suppressed  all  the  despatches  between  the 
1 6th  and  the  21st,  and  every  other  allusion  to  the  trans- 
action. 

On  the  23d,  he  writes  to  General  Kilpatrick : “Let 
the  whole  people  know  the  war  is  now  against  them,  be- 
cause their  armies  flee  before  us  and  do  not  defend  their 
country  or  frontier  as  they  should.  It  is  pretty  nonsense 
for  Wheeler  and  Beauregard  and  such  vain  heroes  to 
talk  of  our  warring  against  women  and  children  and 
prevent  us  reaching  their  homes.” 

If,  therefore,  an  army  defending  their  country  can 
prevent  invaders  from  reaching  their  homes  and  fam- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


36B 


ilies,  the  latter  have  a right  to  that  protection;  but  if 
the  invaders  can  break  through  and  reach  these  homes, 
these  are  justified  in  destroying  women  and  children. 
Certainly  this  is  a great  advance  on  the  doctrine  and 
practice  of  the  dark  ages.  Another  extraordinary  moral 
consequence  flows  from  this  insufficiency  of  defence : “If 
the  enemy  fails  to  defend  his  country,  we  may  right- 
fully appropriate  what  we  want.”  Here,  now,  is  a nice 
question  of  martial  law  or  casuistry,  solved  with  the  sim- 
plicity of  an  ancient  Roman.  In  other  words,  when  in 
the  enemy’s  country,  the  army  shall  be  stricty  careful 
not  to  seize,  capture  or  appropriate  to  military  or  pri- 
vate use,  any  property — that  it  can  not  get. 

“They  (the  Southern  people)  have  lost  all  title  to 
property,  and  can  lose  nothing  not  already  forfeited.” 

What,  nothing?  Not  merely  the  houses  we  had  built, 
the  lands  we  had  tilled,  the  churches  we  worshipped  in — 
had  we  forfeited  the  right  to  drink  of  the  streams,  to 
behold  the  sun,  to  breathe  the  free  air  of  heaven?  What 
unheard  of,  what  inconceivable  crime  had  we  committed 
that  thus  closed  every  gate  of  mercy  and  compassion 
against  us,  and  provoked  an  utterance  which  has  but 
one  parallel — the  death  warrant  signed  by  Phillip  II. 
against  all  Netherlands?  General  Sherman  has  himself 
told  us  what  it  was : We  had  dared  to  act  on  the  “truth 
that  liberty  and  government  are  worth  fighting  for.” 

On  March  15,  he  writes  to  General  Gillmore,  advising 
him  to  draw  forces  from  Charleston  and  Savannah  (both 
then  in  Federal  hands)  to  destroy  a railroad,  etc.  “As  to 
the  garrisons  of  those  places  I don’t  feel  disposed  to  be 
over-generous,  and  should  not  hesitate  to  burn  Savannah, 


304 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Charleston  and  Wilmington,  or  either  of  them,  if  the  gar- 
risons were  needed.” 

Such  are  some  of  the  results  of  our  gleanings  in  this 
field.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  after  reading  them  we  fer- 
vently echo  General  Sherman’s  devout  aspiration : “I  do 
wish  the  fine  race  of  men  that  people  the  United  States 
should  rule  and  determine  the  future  destiny  of  Amer- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


365 


SHERMAN’S  MARCH  TO  THE  SEA. 


(Reprinted  by  Permission  of  the  Illustrator  Company.  From 
the  April,  1896,  Number  of  “ The  Illustrator.”  Copyrighted. 
All  Rights  Reserved.) 

It  is  a proud  thing  for  Americans  to  feel  that  there 
is  little  to  bring  the  blush  of  shame  to  their  cheeks  in 
the  contemplation  of  their  country’s  history.  It  is  a 
glorious  thing  for  our  young  manhood  to  know  that  the 
annals  of  their  race  tell  of  the  earnest  and  upward  prog- 
ress of  a people,  Christian  from  the  first,  toward  an 
ever  higher  civilization.  It  is  well  to  reflect  that  when 
the  ruthless  hand  of  war  has  turned  American  citizen- 
ship from  the  paths  of  peace  it  could  do  little  more  than 
array  strong  man  against  sturdy  foeman  in  an  honest 
battle  for  principle,  and  that  outrage  and  pillage  in  our 
broad  domain  have  been  the  almost  undisputed  heritage 
of  the  Aborigines. 

Enduring  with  patient  fortitude  the  raids  of  savage 
foes  upon  our  early  frontiers,  meeting  the  armed  invasion 
of  foreign  hosts  with  a resistance  vigorous  but  manly, 
pressing  our  own  victorious  arms  to  the  very  citadel  of 
our  Mexican  neighbors  without  spoliation  or  rapine,  it  is 
sad  to  realize  that  it  remained  for  an  internecine  conflict, 
where  brother  stood  against  brother,  for  an  invasion  by 
an  army  void  of  pretext  of  reprisal  or  revenge,  to  write 


566 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


upon  American  warfare  the  stigma  of  vandalism,  rapac- 
ity and  theft. 

The  movement  from  Atlanta  to  Savannah,  which  fig- 
ured in  history  as  “The  March  to  the  Sea,”  was,  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  tactician,  no  great  achevement ; it  in- 
volved no  more  than  the  passage  of  an  invincible  army 
across  some  three  hundred  miles  of  country,  where  it 
could  gather  supplies  upon  its  way,  to  effect  a junction 
with  its  naval  allies  at  a practically  defenseless  city.  It 
was  peculiarly  lacking  in  the  daring  which  is  customarily 
ascribed  to  it,  for  it  was  made,  practically,  without  re- 
sistance and  along  a route  where  no  considerable  force 
of  the  enemy  could  have  been  encountered.  It  was  not  a 
venture  in  the  dark  with  a conclusion  to  be  determined 
by  circumstances ; for  the  authorities  at  Washington  were 
fully  advised  of  its  author’s  purpose,  and  Gen.  Sherman 
was  assured  that  he  would  meet  a formidable  fleet  at 
Savannah  before  he  undertook  it.  It  was  no  more  nor 
less  than  the  yielding,  by  this  most  typical  barbarian  con- 
queror of  the  Nineteenth  century,  to  the  spirit  of  pil- 
lage and  excess  which  distinguished  his  prototypes  in 
the  days  of  the  Goths  and  Vandals,  when  the  homes  and 
firesides  of  their  enemies  were  at  their  mercy.  It  was  a 
campaign  remarkable  only  for  the  revival  of  military 
methods  abandoned  since  Attila,  the  Hun.  It  was,  never- 
theless, as  carefully  planned  as  it  was  ruthlessly  executed. 
It  was  no  sudden  impulse  which  laid  the  torch  to  every 
roof-tree  upon  the  invading  army’s  path.  It  was  no  spirit 
of  retaliation  for  vigorous  but  ineffective  resistance  which 
goaded  these  conquerors  to  excess,  for  out  of  62,204  men 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


367 


who  began  the  march  but  103  lost  their  lives  before  they 
reached  Savannah.  It  was  simply  the  grasping  of  the 
amplest  opportunity  by  a man  who  glories  in  looting 
and  destruction,  and  to  whom  human  misery  was  a sub- 
ject for  jest. 

At  the  outset  let  us  understand  that  General  Sherman, 
through  all  that  portion  of  his  career  which  began  with 
the  destruction  of  Atlanta,  was  acting  upon  a plan  and  a 
theory  devised  and  adopted  weeks  before ; that  his  own 
actions  and  that  of  his  army  were  in  no  sense  impulsive, 
but  in  every  way  controlled  by  premeditation,  and  that 
our  authority  for  such  a conclusion  lies  in  the  repeated 
statements  of  the  General  himself. 

With  the  brutal  frankness  which  was  one  of  his 
characteristics,  he  wrote  on  September  4th,  1864,  in  a 
letter  to  General  Halleck,  which  he  reproduces  in  his  au- 
tobiography : “If  the  people  raise  a howl  against  my 
barbarity  and  cruelty,  I will  answer  that  war  is  war  and 
not  popularity-seeking.  I knew,  of  course,”  he  says, 
“that  such  a measure  would  be  strongly  criticized,  but 
made  up  my  mind  to  do  it  with  the  absolute  certainty  of 
its  justness,  and  that  time  would  sanction  its  wisdom. 
I knew  that  the  people  of  the  South  would  read  in  this 
measure  two  important  conclusions;  one  that  we  were  in 
earnest,  and  the  other  that  if  they  were  sincere  in  their 
common  and  popular  clamor  ‘to  die  in  the  last  ditch,’ 
the  opportunity  would  soon  come.” 

The  cold-blooded  candor  of  this  statement  leaves  lit- 
tle doubt  of  the  temperature  of  the  well-springs  which 
fed  that  organ  of  General  Sherman  corresponding  to  the 


368 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


heart  of  an  ordinary  man ; but  if  evidence  were  wanting 
of  his  absolute  unconcern  for  the  sufferings  of  others 
when  his  own  plans  might  be  interfered  with  to  the 
slightest  degree,  it  might  be  found  in  his  answer  to 
General  Hood’s  proposition  for  an  exchange  of  prisoners. 
“Some  of  these  prisoners,”  he  says,  “had  already  escaped 
and  got  in,  and  had  described  the  pitiable  condition  of 
the  remainder.”  He  had  at  that  time  about  two  thousand 
Confederate  prisoners  available  for  exchange.  “These 
I offered  to  exchange  for  Stoneman,  Buell,  and  such  of 
my  own  army  as  would  make  up  the  equivalent;  but  I 
would  not  exchange  for  his  prisoners  generally,  because 
I knew  these  would  have  to  be  sent  to  their  own  regi- 
ments away  from  my  army,  whereas  all  we  could  give 
him  could  at  once  be  put  to  duty  in  his  immediate  army.” 
No  possible  suffering  which  his  unfortunate  companions 
in  arms  could  be  forced  to  bear  by  reason  of  the  Con- 
federates’ lack  of  supplies  with  which  to  feed  and  clothe 
them,  could  induce  him  to  exchange  for  men  who  would 
not  strengthen  his  own  immediate  army ! 

Geneseric,  the  Vandal,  is  said  to  have  been  “cruel  to 
blood  thirstiness,  cunning,  unscrupulous  and  grasping; 
but  he  possessed  great  military  talents  and  his  manner  of 
life  was  austere.”  Let  the  impartial  reader  of  history  say 
how  nearly  the  barbarian  who  marched  to  the  sea  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  approached  to  his  prototype  of  the 
fifth  century.  One  is  not  surprised,  therefore,  to  find 
this  man  writing  to  General  Hood  on  September  7th, 
1864,  that  he  “deemed  it  to  the  interest  of  the  United 

States  that  the  citizens  now  residing  in  Atlanta  should 
>> 


remove. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


369 


In  the  midst  of  a region  desolated  by  war,  their 
fathers,  husbands,  brothers,  sons,  in  the  army  hundreds 
of  miles  away,  it  was  “deemed  to  be  in  the  interest  of  the 
United  States”  that  the  helpless  women  and  children  of 
Atlanta  should  be  driven  from  their  homes  to  find  such 
shelter  as  God  gives  the  ravens  and  the  beasts  of  the 
wood.  It  was  a course  that  wrung  from  General  Hood 
these  forceful  words  of  repiy : 

“Permit  me  to  say  that  the  unprecedented  measure 
you  propose  transcends,  in  studied  and  ingenious  cruelty, 
all  acts  ever  before  brought  to  my  attention  in  the  dark 
history  of  war.  In  the  name  of  God  and  humanity,  I 
protest,  believing  that  you  will  find  you  are  expelling 
from  their  homes  and  firesides  the  wives  and  children  of 
a brave  people.”  To  this  burning  arraignment  General 
Sherman  could  find  no  better  answer  than  argument  con- 
cerning the  right  of  States  to  secede.  But  it  was  follow- 
ed on  September  nth  by  an  appeal  from  the  mayor  and 
councilmen  of  Atlanta  which  would  have  touched  a heart 
of  stone.  It  was  humble,  it  was  earnest,  it  was  pitiful. 
It  provoked  these  words  in  reply : “I  have  your  letter 
of  the  nth  in  the  nature  of  a petition  to  revoke  my 
orders  removing  all  the  inhabitants  from  Atlanta.  I 
have  read  it  carefully,  and  give  full  credit  to  your  state- 
ments of  distress  that  will  be  occasioned,  and  yet  shall 
not  revoke  my  orders,  because  they  were  not  designed 
to  meet  the  humanities  of  the  case,  but  to  prepare  for  the 
future  struggles  in  which  millions  of  good  people  outside 
of  Atlanta  have  an  interest.” 

The  same  unalterable  resolution  mitst  have  dominated 


370 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


Geneseric,  the  Vandal,  when  he  prepared  for  his  fourteen 
days  sacking  of  Rome.  The  vandal  of  the  fifth  century 
had  at  least  the  pretext  of  reprisal  for  his  action ; the 
vandal  of  the  nineteenth  century  could  find  no  better  plea 
for  his  barbarity  than  that  it  might  wring  the  hearts  of 
absent  men  until  they  would  sacrifice  principle  and  honor 
for  the  relief  of  their  loved  ones. 

President  Davis  says : “Since  Alva’s  atrocious  cruel- 
ties to  the  non-combatant  population  of  the  low  countries 
in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  history  of  war  records  no 
instance  of  such  barbarous  cruelty  as  this  order  designed 
to  perpetrate.  It  involved  the  immediate  expulsion  from 
their  homes  and  only  means  of  subsistence  of  thousands 
of  unoffending  women  and  children,  whose  husbands  and 
fathers  were  either  in  the  army,  in  Northern  prisons,  or 
had  died  in  battle.” 

At  the  time  appointed  the  women  and  children  were 
expelled  from  their  houses,  and,  before  they  were  passed 
within  our  lines,  complaint  was  generally  made  that  the 
Federal  officers  and  men  who  were  sent  to  guard  them 
had  robbed  them  of  the  few  articles  of  value  they  had 
been  permitted  to  take  from  their  homes.  The  cowardly 
dishonesty  of  the  men  appointed  to  carry  out  this  order, 
was  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  temper  and  the  spirit  of 
the  order. 

It  was  on  the  12th  day  of  November,  1864,  that  “The 
March  to  the  Sea”  began.  Hood’s  army  had  been  fol- 
lowed to  Tennessee,  and  Sherman’s  forces  had  destroyed 
the  railroad  during  their  return  trip  to  Atlanta.  They 
Avere  now  ready  to  abandon  the  ruins  of  the  Gate  City  for 


DLRING  THE  WAR. 


371 


fresher  and  more  lucrative  fields  of  havoc.  It  is  fair  to 
General  Sherman  to  say  that  his  plans  and  intentions  had 
been  fully  communicated  to  the  authorities  at  Washing- 
ton, and  that  they  met  with  the  thorough  approbation  of 
General  Halleck,  then  Chief  of  Staff. 

General  Halleck  will  be  remembered  as  the  hero  who 
won  immortal  fame  before  Corinth.  With  an  immensely 
superior  force  he  so  thoroughly  entrenched  himself  be- 
fore that  city  that  he  not  only  held  his  position  during 
General  Beauregard's  occupancy  of  the  town,  but  retained 
it  for  several  days  after  the  Confederate  evacuation.  He 
retired  from  active  service  after  this,  his  only  piece  of 
campaigning,  to  act  in  an  advisory  capacity  at  Washing- 
ton, and  it  was  he  who  wrote  these  encouraging  words 
to  Sherman  at  Atlanta : “The  course  which  you  have 
pursued  in  removing  rebel  families  from  Atlanta,  and  in 
the  exchange  of  prisoners,  is  fully  approved  by  the  War 
Department Let  the  disloyal  families  thus  strip- 

ped go  to  their  husbands,  fathers,  and  natural  protectors 

in  the  rebel  ranks I would  destroy  every  mill 

and  factory  within  reach,  which  I did  not  want  for  my 

own  use I have  endeavored  to  impress  these 

views  upon  our  commanders  for  the  last  two  years.  You 
are  almost  the  only  one  who  has  properly  applied  them.” 
These  words  of  encouragement  fell  upon  willing  ears.  No 
one  knew  better  than  Sherman  how  to  read  the  sentiments 
between  those  lines ; he  understood  the  motives  which 
moved  their  doughty  author  as  thoroughly  as  when  later 
the  same  hand  gathered  courage  to  advise  him  in  plain 
unvarnished  words  to  wipe  the  city  of  Charleston  off  the 


372 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


face  of  the  earth,  and  sow  her  site  with  salt.  The  val- 
iant Chief  of  Staff,  who  urged  on  campaigns  from  a point 
sufficiently  to  the  rear,  had  found  at  last  a man  who 
would  carry  out  his  instructions,  and  the  war  upon 
women  and  children  was  about  to  begin. 

General  Halleck  was  not  the  sole  confidant  of  Gen- 
eral Sherman’s  plan.  Less  than  a month  before  the  mem- 
orable march  was  undertaken,  he  telegraphed  to  Gen- 
eral Grant ; “I  propose  that  we  break  up  the  railroad 
from  Chattanooga  forward,  and  that  we  strike  out  for 
Milledgeville,  Millen  and  Savannah.  Until  we  can  re- 
populate Georgia,  it  is  useless  for  us  to  occupy  it,  but 
the  utter  destruction  of  its  roads,  houses  and  people  will 
cripple  their  military  resources.  I can  make  this  march, 
and  make  Georgia  howl !” 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh  conceived  and  attempted  to  ex- 
ecute the  plan  of  exterminating  the  Irish  race,  and  colo- 
nizing their  lands  from  England.  The  Sultan  of  Turkey 
is  about  to  carry  out  a similar  policy  with  his  Armenians. 

The  difference  between  these  other  exterminators  and. 
Sherman,  is  that  they  expect  to  be  met  at  the  doors  of  the 
homes  they  intended  to  destroy  by  men  capable  of  offer- 
ing resistance,  while  the  American  General  knew  he 
would  have  to  do  with  women  and  children  alone. 

He  evidently  met  with  some  expostulation  from  Gen- 
eral Grant,  for  he  afterwards  telegraphed  him  that  he 
would  “infinitely  prefer  to  make  a wreck  of  the  road  and 
the  country  from  Chattanooga  and  Atlanta,  including  the 
latter  city,  send  back  all  wounded  and  unserviceable  men, 
and  with  the  effective  army  move  through  Georgia, 
smashing  things  to  the  sea.” 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


373 


Receiving  no  answer  to  this  latter  dispatch,  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  execute  the  campaign  as  he  had  planned 
it,  and  in  his  own  language  proceeded  to  “make  the  in- 
terior of  Georgia  feel  the  weight  of  war.” 

Sherman  and  his  staff  rode  out  of  the  Gate  City  at  7 
o’clock  in  the  morning  of  the  16th.  “Behind  us,”  he 
says,  “lay  Atlanta,  smouldering  and  in  ruins,  the  black 
smoke  rising  high  in  the  air  and  hanging  like  a nail  over 
the  ruined  city.  Some  band,  by  accident,  struck  up  the 
anthem  of  ‘John  Brown’s  soul  goes  marching  on.’  The 
men  caught  up  the  strain,  and  never  before  or  since  have 
I heard  the  chorus  of  “Glory,  glory,  hallelujah!’  done 
with  more  spirit  or  in  better  harmony  of  time  and  place.” 
To  the  credit  of  the  slandered  soul  of  that  other  marau- 
der, let  us  say,  that  John  Brown’s  lawless  warfare  was 
upon  men  alone,  and  that  booty  formed  no  part  of  his 
incentive. 

Knowing  that  no  effective  resistance  was  to  be  ex- 
pected, Sherman  so  scattered  his  columns  that  the  sixty- 
mile  “swath”  which  it  was  his  purpose  to  devastate,  was 
covered  by  them  with  ease.  In  order  that  the  work  might 
be  thoroughly  and  effectively  done,  a sufficient  number 
of  men  were  detailed  for  that  branch  of  military  service 
peculiar  to  Sherman’s  army,  and  known  as  “bummers.” 

“These  interesting  individuals  always,”  says  the  Gen- 
eral, “arose  before  day  and  preceded  the  army  on  its 
march.”  “Although  this  foraging  was  attended  with  great 
danger  and  hard  work,  there  seemed  to  be  a charm  about 
it  that  attracted  the  soldiers,  and  it  was  a privilege  to 
be  detailed  on  such  a party.”  “No  doubt,”  he  adds  with 


374 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


that  same  blunt  frankness,  “many  acts  of  pillage,  rob- 
bery and  violence  were  committed  by  these  parties  of 
foragers  usually  called  ‘bummers’ ; for  I have  since  heard 
of  jewelry  taken  from  women,  and  the  plunder  of  arti- 
cles that  never  reached  the  commissary.”  But  these  play- 
ful fellows,  in  spite  of  such  indiscretions,  were  never 
more  to  the  General  than  an  exhibition  of  that  charm- 
ing humor  invariably  apparent  in  him  in  the  presence 
of  human  suffering. 

We  may  gather  an  idea  of  them  from  the  following 
description  given  by  a correspondent  of  the  New  York 
Herald,  who  accompanied  the 'army:  “Any  man  who 
has  seen  the  object  that  the  name  applies  to  will  acknowl- 
edge that  it  was  admirably  selected.  Fancy  a ragged 
man,  bleached  by  the  smoke  of  many  a pine-knot  fire, 
mounted  on  a scraggy  mule  without  a saddle,  with  a gun, 
a knap-sack,  a butcher-knife  and  a plug  hat,  stealing  his 
way  through  the  pine  forests  far  out  in  the  flanks  of  a 
column,  keen  on  the  scent  of  rebels,  or  bacon,  or  silver 
spoons,  or  coin,  or  anything  valuable,  and  you  have  him 
in  your  mind.  Think  how  you  would  admire  him  if 
you  were  a lone  woman,  with  a family  of  small  children, 
far  from  help,  when  he  blandly  inquired  where  you 
kept  your  valuables ! Think  how  you  would  smile  when 
he  pried  open  your  chests  with  his  bayonet,  or  knocked  to 
pieces  your  tables,  pianos  and  chairs,  tore  your  bed- 
clothing into  three-inch  strips  and  scattered  them  about 
the  yard.  The  ‘bummers’  say  it  takes  too  much  time  to 
use  keys.  Color  is  no  protection  from  the  rough  raiders. 
They  go  through  a negro  cabin  in  search  of  diamonds 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


375 


and  gold  watches  with  just  as  much  freedom  and  vi- 
vacity as  they  ‘loot’  the  dwelling  of  a wealthy  planter. 
They  appear  to  be  possessed  of  a spirit  of  ‘pure  cussed- 
ness.’ One  incident,  illustrative  of  many,  will  suffice. 
A bummer  stepped  into  a house  and  inquired  for  sor- 
ghum. The  lady  of  the  house  presented  a jug,  which  he 
said  was  too  heavy,  so  he  merely  filled  his  canteen.  Then 
taking  a huge  wad  of  tobacco  from  his  mouth  he  thrust 
it  into  the  jug.  The  lady  inquired,  in  wonder,  why  he 
spoiled  that  which  he  did  not  want.  ‘Oh,  some  feller’ll 
come  along  and  taste  that  sorghum  and  think  you’ve 

poisoned  him,  then  he’ll  burn  your  d d old  house.’ 

There  are  hundreds  of  these  mounted  men  with  the  col- 
umn, and  they  go  everywhere.  Some  of  them  are  loaded 
down  with  silverware,  gold  coin,  and  other  valuables.  I 
hazard  nothing  in  saying  three-fifths  (in  value)  of  the 
personal  property  of  the  country  we  have  passed  through 
was  taken  by  Sherman’s  army.” 

In  an  address  delivered  before  the  Association  of 
the  Maryland  Line,  Senator  Zeb  Vance,  of  North  Car- 
olina, has  laid  the  vigorous  touch  of  his  characteristic 
English  upon  the  void  until  it  stands  out  in  barbarous, 
bold  relief,  so  far  beyond  the  pencil  of  the  present  writer 
that  he  best  serves  his  readers  by  quoting:  “With  refer- 
ence to  his  famous  and  infamous  march,  I wish  to  sav  that 
I hope  I am  too  much  of  a man  to  complain  of  the  nat- 
ural and  inevitable  hardships,  or  even  cruelties  of  war; 
but  of  the  manner  in  which  this  army  treated  the  peace- 
ful and  defenseless  inhabitants  in  the  reach  of  his  col- 
umns, all  civilization  should  complain. 


376 


LIFE  IN'  DIXIE 


“There  are  always  stragglers  and  desperadoes  fol- 
lowing in  the  wake  of  an  army,  who  do  some  damage  to 
and  inflict  some  outrages  upon  helpless  citizens,  in  spite 
of  all  efforts  of  commanding  officers  to  restrain  and  pun- 
ish ; but  when  a general  organizes  a corps  of  thieves  and 
plunderers  as  a part  of  his  invading  army,  and  licenses 
beforehand  their  outrages,  he  and  all  who  countenance, 
aid  or  abet,  invite  the  execration  of  mankind.  This  pe- 
culiar arm  of  military  service,  it  is  charged  and  believed, 
was  instituted  by  General  Sherman  in  his  invasion  of 
the  Southern  States.  Certain  it  is  that  the  operations  of 
his  ‘Bummer  Corps’  were  as  regular  and  as  unrebuked, 
if  not  as  much  commended  for  efficiency,  as  any  other 
division  of  his  army,  and  their  atrocities  are  often  justi- 
fied or  excused,  on  the  ground  that  ‘such  is  war.’ 

“In  his  own  official  report  of  his  operations  in  Geor- 
gia, he  says:  ‘We  consumed  the  corn  and  fodder  in  the 
region  of  country  thirty  miles  either  side  of  a line  from 
Atlanta  to  Savannah,  also  the  sweet  potatoes,  hogs,  sheep 
and  poultry,  and  carried  off  more  than  ten  thousand 
horses  and  mules.  I estimate  the  damage  done  to  Georgia 
at  one  hundred  million  dollars,  at  least  twenty  millions 
of  which  inured  to  our  benefit,  and  the  remainder  was 
simply  waste  and  destruction !’  . . . The  ‘remainder’ 
delicately  alluded  to,  that  is  say  damage  done  the  un- 
resisting inhabitants  to  over  and  above  the  seizing  of  nec- 
essary army  supplies,  consisted  in  private  houses  burned, 
stock  shot  down  and  left  to  rot,  bed  clothes,  money, 
watches,  spoons,  plate  and  ladies’  jewelry  stolen,  etc., 
etc.  A lane  of  desolation  sixty  miles  wide  through  the 


DURING  TUE  WAR. 


377 


heart  of  three  great  States,  marked  by  more  burnings  and 
destructions  than  ever  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  widest 
cyclone  that  ever  laid  forest  low!  And  all  done,  not  to 
support  an  invading  army,  but  for  ‘pure  waste  and  de- 
struction’ ; to  punish  the  crime  of  rebellion,  not  in  the 
persons  of  those  who  had  brought  these  about,  but  of 
peaceful  non-combatants,  the  tillers  of  the  soil,  the  women 
and  the  children,  the  aged  and  feeble,,  and  the  poor 
slaves ! A silver  spoon  was  evidence  of  disloyalty,  a ring 
on  a lady’s  finger  was  pure  proof  of  sympathy  with  re- 
bellion, whilst  a gold  watch  was  prima  facie  evidence  of 
the  most  damnable  guilt  on  the  part  of  the  wearer. 
These  obnoxious  earmarks  of  treason  must  be  seized  and 
confiscated  for  private  use — for  ‘such  is  war!’  If  these 
failed,  and  they  sometimes  did,  torture  of  the  inhabitants 
was  freely  employed  to  force  disclosure.  Sometimes  with 
noble  rage  at  their  disappointment,  the  victims  were  left 
dead,  as  a warning  to  all  others  who  should  dare  to  hide 
a jewel  or  a family  trinket  from  the  cupidity  of  a soldier 
of  the  Union.  No  doubt  the  stern  necessity  for  such 
things  caused  great  pain  to  those  who  inflicted,  but  the 
Union  must  be  restored,  and  how  could  that  be  done 
whilst  a felonious  gold  watch  or  a treasonable  spoon  was 
suffered  to  remain  in  the  land,  giving  aid  and  comfort 
to  rebellion?  For  ‘such  is  war.’  Are  such  things  war 
indeed  ? Let  us  see.  Eightv-four  years  before  that  time, 
there  was  a war,  in  that  same  country ; it  was  a rebellion, 
too,  and  an  English  nobleman  led  the  troops  of  Great 
Britain  through  that  same  region,  over  much  of  the  same 
route,  in  his  efforts  to  subdue  that  rebellion.  The  people 


378 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


through  whose  land  he  marched  were  bitterly  hostile, 
they  shot  his  foraging  parties,  his  sentinels  and  strag- 
glers, they  fired  upon  him  from  every  wood. 

He  and  his  troops  had  every  motive  to  hate  and  punish 
those  rebellious  and  hostile  people.  It  so  happened  that 
the  original  order-book  of  Lord  Cornwallis  is  in  posses- 
sion of  the  North  Carolina  Historical  Society.  I have 
seen  and  read  it.  Let  us  make  a few  extracts  and  see 
what  he  considered  war,  and  what  he  thought  to  be  the 
duty  of  a civilized  soldier  towards  non-combatants  and 
the  helpless : 

“ ‘ Camp  Near  Beatty's  Ford, 
January  28,  1781. 

“ ‘Lord  Cornwallis  has  so  often  expressed  the  zeal 
and  good  will  of  the  army  that  he  has  not  the  slightest 
doubt  that  the  officers  and  soldiers  will  most  cheerfully 
siibmit  to  the  ill  conveniences  that  must  naturally  at- 
tend war,  so  remote  from  water  carriage  and  the  mag- 
azines of  the  army.  The  supply  of  rum  for  a time  will 
be  absolutely  impossible,  and  that  of  meal  very  un- 
certain. It  is  needless  to  point  out  to  the  officers  the 
necessity  of  preserving  the  strictest  discipline,  and  of 
preventing  the  oppressed  people  from  suffering  violence 
by  the  hands  from  whom  they  are  taught  to  look  for  pro- 
tection.’ 

“Now,  General  Sherman  was  fighting,  as  he  said, 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  restoring  the  Union,  and  for 
making  the  people  of  the  rebellious  States  look  to  the 
United  States  alone  for  protection;  does  any  act  or  or- 
der of  his  anywhere  indicate  a similar  desire  of  pro- 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


379 


tecting  the  people  from  suffering  at  the  hands  of  those 
whose  duty  it  was  to  protect  them  ? Again : 

“ ‘ Headquarters,  Lansler's  Plantation, 

February  2,  1781. 

“ ‘Lord  Cornwallis  is  highly  displeased  that  several 
houses  have  been  set  on  fire  to-day  during  the  march — 
a disgrace  to  the  army — and  he  will  punish  with  the  ut- 
most severity  any  person  or  persons  who  shall  be  found 
guilty  of  committing  so  disgraceful  an  outrage.  His 
lordship  requests  the  commanding  officers  of  the  corps 
will  endeavor  to  find  the  persons  who  set  fire  to  the 
houses  to-day.’ 

“Now  think  of  the  march  of  Sherman’s  army  which 
could  be  discovered  a great  way  off  by  the  smoke  of 
homesteads  by  day  and  the  lurid  glare  of  flames  by  night, 
from  Atlanta  to  Savannah,  from  Columbia  to  Fayette- 
ville, and  suppose  that  such  an  order  as  this  had  been 
issued  by  its  commanding  officers  and  rigidly  executed, 
would  not  the  mortality  have  been  quite  equal  to  that  of 
a great  battle? 

“Arriving  in  Fayetteville  on  the  10th  of  January, 
1865,  he  not  only  burned  the  arsenal,  one  of  the  finest 
in  the  United  States,  which  perhaps  he  might  properly 
have  done,  but  also  burned  five  private  dwelling  houses 
near  by ; he  burned  the  principal  printing  offices,  that  of 
the  old  ‘Fayetteville  Observer’ ; he  burned  the  old  Bank 
of  North  Carolina,  eleven  large  warehouses,  five  cotton 
mills  and  quite  a number  of  private  dwellings  in  other 
parts  of  the  town,  whilst  in  the  suburbs  almost  a clean 
sweep  was  made ; in  one  locality  nine  houses  were  burned. 
Universally  houses  were  gutted  before  they  were  burned, 
and  after  everything  portable  was  secured  the  furniture 


380 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


was  ruthlessly  destroyed,  pianos  on  which  perhaps  rebel 
tunes  had  been  played — ‘Dixie’  or  ‘My  Maryland’ — dis- 
loyal bureaus,  traitorous  tables  and  chairs  were  cut  to 
pieces  with  axes,  and  frequently,  after  all  this  damage, 
fire  was  applied  and  all  consumed.  Carriages  and  ve- 
hicles of  all  kinds  were  wantonly  destroyed  or  burned ; 
instances  could  be  given  of  old  men  who  had  the  shoes 
taken  from  their  feet,  the  hats  from  their  heads  and 
clothes  from  their  persons ; and  their  wives  and  children 
subjected  to  like  treatment.  In  one  instance,  as  the  ma- 
rauders left  they  shot  down  a dozen  cattle  belonging  to 
an  old  man,  and  then  left  their  carcases  lying  in  the 
yard.  Think  of  that,  and  then  remember  the  grievance 
of  the  Pennsylvania  Dutch  farmers  who  came  in  all 
seriousness  to  complain  to  General  Longstreet  in  the 
Gettysburg  campaign,  of  the  outrage  which  some  of  his 
ferocious  rebels  had  committed  upon  them  by  ‘milking 
their  cows/  On  one  occasion,  at  Fayetteville,  four  gen- 
tlemen were  hung  up  by  the  neck  until  nearly  dead  to 
force  them  to  disclose  where  their  valuables  were  hidden, 
and  one  of  them  was  shot  to  death.  Again : 

“ ‘Headquarters  Dobbins  House, 

February  17,  1781. 

“ ‘Lord  Cornwallis  is  very  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  call 
the  attention  of  the  officers  of  the  army  to  the  repeated 
orders  against  plundering,  and  he  assures  the  officers 
that  if  their  duty  to  their  King  and  country,  and  their 
feelings  for  humanity  are  not  sufficient  to  force  their 
obedience  to  them,  he  must,  however  reluctantly,  make 
use  of  such  powers  as  the  military  laws  have  placed 

in  his  hands It  is  expected  that  captains 

will  exert  themselves  to  keep  good  order  and 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


381 


to  prevent  plundering.  Any  officer  who  looks  on  with 
indifference  and  does  not  do  his  utmost  to  prevent  shame- 
ful marauding,  zvill  be  considered  in  a more  criminal 
light  than  the  persons  who  commit  these  scandalous 
crimes,  which  must  bring  disgrace  and  ruin  on  his 
Majesty’s  service.  All  foraging  parties  will  give  re- 
ceipts for  supplies  taken  by  them.’ 

“Now,  taking  it  for  granted  that  Lord  Cornwallis,  a 
distinguished  soldier  and  a gentleman,  is  an  authority  on 
the  rights  of  war,  could  there  be  found  anywhere  a more 
damnatory  comment  upon  the  practices  of  General  Sher- 
man and  his  army  ? Again  : 

‘“Headquarters,  Freelands, 

February  28,  1781. 

“ ‘Memorandum : — A watch  found  by  the  regiment  of 
Bose.  The  owner  may  have  it  from  the  adjutant  of  the 
regiment  upon  proving  property.’  Another : 

“‘Smith’s  Plantation,  March  1,  1781. 

“ ‘Brigade  Orders.  A woman  having  been  robbed  of  a 
watch,  a black  silk  handkerchief,  a gallon  of  peach 
brandy  and  a shirt,  and  as,  by  the  description,  by  a sol- 
dier of  the  guards,  the  camp  and  every  man’s  kit  is  to  be 
immediately  searched  for  the  same  by  the  officers  of  the 
Brigade.’ 

“Are  there  any  poets  in  the  audience,  or  other  per- 
sons in  whom  the  imaginative  faculty  has  been  largely 
cultivated?  If  so,  let  me  beg  him  to  do  me  the  favor  of 
conceiving,  if  he  can,  and  make  manifest  to  me,  the 
idea  of  a notice  of  a lost  watch  being  given,  in  general 
orders,  by  William  Tecumseh  Sherman,  and  the  offer 
to  return  it  on  proof  of  property  by  the  rebel  owner ! Let 


382 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


him  imagine,  if  he  can,  the  searching  of  every  man's  kit 
in  the  army  for  a stolen  watch,  a shirt,  a black  silk 
handkerchief  and  a gallon  of  peach  brandy ! Sherman 
says,  ‘such  is  war.’  I venture  to  say  that  up  to  the  period 
when  that  ‘great  march’  taught  us  the  contrary,  no  hu- 
mane general  or  civilized  people  in  Christendom  believed 
that  ‘such  was  war.’  Has  civilization  gone  backward 
since  Lord  Cornwallis’  day?  Have  arson  and  vulgar 
theft  been  ennobled  into  heroic  virtues?  If  so,  when  and 
by  whom  ? Has  the  art  of  discovering  a poor  man’s  hid- 
den treasure  by  fraud  or  torture  been  elevated  into  the 
strategy  which  wins  a campaign?  If  so,  when  and  by 
whom  ? 

“No,  it  will  not  do  to  slur  over  these  things  by  a 
vague  reference  to  the  inevitable  cruelties  of  war.  The 
time  is  fast  coming  when  the  conduct  of  that  campaign 
will  be  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  real  humanity,  and 
investigated  in  the  real  historic  spirit  which  evolves 
truth ; and  all  the  partisan  songs  which  have  been  sung, 
or  orations  which  subservient  orators  have  spoken  about 
that  great  march  to  the  sea;  and  all  the  caricatures  of 
Southern  leaders  which  the  bitterness  of  a diseased  sec- 
tional sentiment  has  inspired ; and  all  the  glamour  of  a 
great  success,  shall  not  avail  to  restrain  the  inexorable, 
the  illuminating  pen  of  history.  Truth,  like  charity, 
never  faileth.  Whether  there  be  prophecies,  they  shall 
fail,  whether  there  be  tongues  they  shall  cease ; whether 
there  be  knowledge,  it  shall  vanish  away ; but  when  the 
truth,  which  is  perfect,  has  come,  then  that  which  is  in 
part  shall  be  done  away. 

“Now  let  us  contrast  General  Sherman  with  his  great- 
est foe;  likewise  the  greatest,  the  most  humane  general 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


383 


of  modern  times,  and  see  whether  he  regarded  the  pit- 
iless destruction  of  the  substance  of  women  and  children 
and  inoffensive  inhabitants  a legitimate  war : 

“ ‘ Headquarters  Army  of  Northern  Va., 

June  27,  1863. 

“ ‘General  Order  No.  73.  The  commanding  general 
has  observed  with  marked  satisfaction  the  conduct  of 
troops  on  this  march.  There  have,  however,  been  in- 
stances of  forgetfulness  on  the  part  of  some  that  they 
have  in  keeping  the  yet  unsullied  reputation  of  this  army, 
and  that  the  duties  exacted  of  us  by  civilization  and 
Christianity  are  not  less  obligatory  in  the  country  of  an 
enemy  than  in  our  own.  The  commanding  general  con- 
siders that  no  greater  disgrace  could  befall  the  army  and 
through  it  our  whole  people,  than  the  perpetration  of 
barbarous  outrages  upon  the  unarmed  and  defenceless, 
and  the  wanton  destruction  of  private  property,  that  have 
marked  the  course  of  the  enemy  in  our  country.  . . . 
It  will  be  remembered  that  we  make  war  only  upon  armed 
men. 

R.  E.  Lee,  General.’ 

“The  humanity  and  Christian  spirit  of  this  order  was 
such  as  to  challenge  the  admiration  of  foreign  nations. 
The  ‘London  Times’  commented  upon  it,  and  its  Ameri- 
can correspondent  said : ‘The  greatest  surprise  has  been 
expressed  to  me  by  officers  from  the  Austrian,  Prussian 
and  English  armies,  each  of  which  has  representatives 
here,  that  volunteer  troops,  provoked  by  nearly  twenty- 
seven  months  of  unparallelled  ruthlessness  and  wanton- 
ness, of  which  their  country  has  been  the  scene,  should 
be  under  such  control,  and  willing  to  act  in  harmony  with 


384 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


the  long-suffering  and  forbearance  of  President  Davis 
and  General  Lee.’ 

“To  show  how  this  order  was  executed,  the  same 
writer  tells  a story  of  how  he  witnessed  with  his  own 
eyes  General  Lee  and  a surgeon  of  his  command  repair- 
ing the  damage  to  a farmer’s  fence.  Colonel  McClure, 
of  Philadelphia,  a Union  soldier  himself,  bears  witness 
to  the  good  conduct  of  Lee’s  ragged  rebels  in  that  famous 
campaign.  He  tells  of  hundreds  of  them  coming  to  him 
and  asking  for  a little  bread  and  coffee,  and  others  who 
were  wet  and  shivering  asking  permission  to  enter  a 
house,  in  which  they  saw  a bright  fire,  to  warm  them- 
selves until  their  coffee  should  be  ready.  Hundreds  of 
similar  instances  could  be  given,  substantiated  by  the 
testimony  of  men  on  both  sides,  to  show  the  splendid 
humanity  of  that  great  invasion.  Blessed  be  the  good 
God,  who,  if  in  Plis  wisdom  denied  us  success,  yet  gave 
to  us  and  our  children  the  rich  inheritance  of  this  great 
example. 

“Major-General  Halleck,  the  commander-in-chief, 
under  the  President,  of  the  armies  of  the  Union,  on 
the  1 8th  of  December,  1864,  dispatched  as  follows  to 
Sherman,  then  in  Savannah:  ‘Should  you  capture 
Charleston,  I hope  that  by  some  accident  the  place  may 
be  destroyed  ; and  if  a little  salt  should  be  sown  upon  its 
site  it  may  prevent  the  growth  of  future  crops  of  nullifi- 
cation and  secession.’  On  December  27th,  1864,  Sherman 
made  the  following  answer:  ‘I  will  bear  in  mind  your 
hint  as  to  Charleston,  and  don’t  think  “salt”  will  be  nec- 
essary. When  I move,  the  15th  corps  will  be  on  the  right 
of  the  right  wing,  and  their  position  will  bring  them  natur- 
ally into  Charleston  first,  and  if  you  have  watched  the  his- 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


385 


tory  of  the  corps  you  will  have  remarked  that  they  gener- 
ally do  their  work  up  pretty  well.  The  truth  is,  the  whole 
army  is  burning  with  insatiable  desire  to  wreak  ven- 
geance upon  South  Carolina.  I almost  tremble  at  her 
fate ; but  feel  that  she  deserves  all  that  seems  to  be 
in  store  for  her.  ...  I look  upon  Columbia  as  quite 
as  bad  as  Charleston.’  Therefore  Columbia  was  burned 
to  ashes.  And  though  he  knew  what  was  in  store  for 
South  Carolina,  so  horrible  that  he  even  trembled,  he  took 
no  steps  to  avert  it,  for  he  felt  that  she  deserved  it  all.  Did 
she,  indeed?  What  crime  had  she  committed  that  placed 
her  outside  the  protection  of  the  law  of  civilized  nations? 
What  unjust,  or  barbarous,  or  brutal  conduct  had  she 
been  guilty  of  to  bring  her  within  the  exceptions  laid 
down  by  the  writers  on  the  laws  of  war  as  authorizing 
extraordinary  severity  of  punishment?  They  are  not 
even  imputed  to  her.  South  Carolina’s  crime,  and  the 
crime  of  all  the  seceding  States,  was  that  of  a construc- 
tion of  the  constitution  of  the  United  States  differing 
from  that  of  General  Sherman  and  the  15th  corps — 
which  always  did  up  its  work  pretty  well.’  Happily  the 
Divine  Goodness  has  made  the  powers  of  recuperation 
superior  to  those  of  destruction ; and  though  their  over- 
throw was  so  complete  that  ‘salt’  was  not  needed  as  the 
type  of  utter  desolation,  Marietta  and  Atlanta  are  thriv- 
ing and  prosperous  cities.” 

Governor  Vance  does  not  wish  to  confine  himself,  in 
quoting,  to  Southern  testimony.  There  are  plenty  of 
honest  and  truthful  soldiers  in  the  Federal  army,  who 
served  in  its  ranks,  to  tell  all  we  want  and  more.  This 
is  what  one  of  them  says,  writing  to  the  “Detroit  Free 
Press”  of  that  campaign : “One  of  the  most  devilish  acts 


386 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


of  Sherman’s  campaign  was  the  destruction  of  Marietta. 
The  Military  Institute  and  such  mills  and  factories  as 
might  be  a benefit  to  Hood  could  expect  the  torch,  but 
Sherman  was  not  content  with  that;  the  torch  was  ap- 
plied to  everything,  even  the  shanties  occupied  by  the 
negroes.  No  advance  warning  was  given.  The  first 
alarm  was  followed  by  the  crackling  of  flames.  Soldiers 
rode  from  house  to  house,  entered  without  ceremony  and 
kindled  fires  in  garrets  and  closets,  and  stood  by  to  see 
that  they  were  not  extinguished.”  Again  he  says : “Had 
one  been  able  to  climb  to  such  a height  at  Atlanta  as  to 
enable  him  to  see  for  forty  miles  around,  the  day  Sher- 
man marched  out,  he  would  have  been  appalled  at  the 
destruction.  Hundreds  of  houses  had  been  burned  ; every 
rod  of  fence  destroyed ; nearly  every  fruit  tree  cut  down, 
and  the  face  of  the  country  so  changed  that  one  born  in 
that  section  could  scarcely  rceognize  it.  The  vindictive- 
ness of  war  would  have  trampled  the  very  earth  out  of 
sight,  had  such  a thing  been  possible.” 

One  cold  and  drizzly  night  in  the  midst  of  this  march- 
ing General  Sherman  found  shelter  and  warmth  beneath 
the  roof  of  a comfortable  plantation  home. 

“In  looking  around  the  room,”  he  says,  “I  saw  a 
small  box,  like  a candle  box,  marked  ‘Howell  Cobb,’  and, 
on  inquiring  of  a negro,  found  we  were  at  the  planta- 
tion of  General  Howell  Cobb,  of  Georgia,  one  of  the 
leading  rebels  of  the  South,  than  a general  in  the  South- 
ern army,  and  who  had  been  Secretary  of  the  Treasury 
in  Mr.  Buchanan’s  time.  Of  course  we  confiscated  his 
property,  and  found  it  rich  in  corn,  beans,  peanuts,  and 
sorghum  molasses.  Extensive  fields  were  all  around  the 
house.  I sent  word  back  to  General  Davis  to  explain 


DURING  TEE  WAR. 


387 


whose  plantation  it  was,  and  to  instruct  him  to  spare 
nothing.  That  night  huge  bonfires  consumed  the  fence- 
rails,  kept  our  soldiers  warm,  and  the  teamsters  and  men, 
as  well  as  slaves,  carried  off  an  immense  quantity  of  com 
and  provisions  of  all  sorts.” 

Do  the  records  of  civilized  warfare  furnish  a parallel 
to  this  petty  and  mercenary  wreaking  of  spite  upon  the 
helpless  home  of  a gallant  foeman? 

The  General  furnished  us  with  proof  of  how  worthy 
of  their  selection  his  staff-officers  proved  during  that 
memorable  raid.  While  camped  that  night  on  Cobb’s 
plantation,  Lieutenant  Snelling,  who  was  a Georgian 
commanding  his  escort,  received  permission  to  visit  his 
uncle,  who  lived  some  six  miles  away. 

“The  next  morning,”  says  the  General,  “he  described 
to  me  his  visit.  The  uncle  was  not  cordial  by  any  means 
to  find  his  nephew  in  the  ranks  of  the  host  that  was  des- 
olating the  land,  and  Snelling  came  back,  having  ex- 
changed his  tired  horse  for  a fresher  one  out  of  his 
uncle’s  stables,  explaining  that  surely  some  of  the  ‘bum- 
mers’ would  have  got  the  horse  had  he  not.” 

It  was  the  eternal  fitness  of  things  that  the  staff- 
officers  of  this  prince  of  free-booters  should  be  rene- 
gades capable  of  stealing  from  their  nearest  kin. 

The  unfailing  jocosity  of  this  merry  marauder  breaks 
out  in  his  recital  of  a negro’s  account  of  the  destruction 
of  Sandersville : “First,  there  came  along  some  cavalry- 
men, and  they  burned  the  depot;  then  came  along  some 
infantrymen,  and  they  tore  up  the  track  and  burned  it, 
and,  just  before  they  left,  they  sot  fire  to  the  well !”  The 
well,  he  explains,  was  a boxed  affair  into  which  some  of 
the  debris  was  piled,  and  the  customary  torch  was  applied, 


388 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


making  the  negro’s  statement  literally  true.  This  was 
one  of  the  incidents  to  leaving  the  pretty  town  of  San- 
dersville  a smoking  mass  of  ruins. 

But  why  enumerate  further  details  of  an  unresisted 
movement  which  cost  Sherman  one  hundred  and  three 
lives,  and  the  State  of  Georgia  one  hundred  million  do- 
lars,  twenty  millions  of  which  he  frankly  states  he  car- 
ried off,  and  eighty  millions  of  which  he  destroyed?  It 
began  in  shame  at  Atlanta — it  passed  with  a gathering 
burden  of  infamy  to  Savannah.  Starvation,  terror,  out- 
rage hung  upon  its  flanks  and  rear.  Its  days  were  dark- 
ened by  the  smoking  incense  from  unparalleled  sacrifices 
upon  the  altar  of  wantonness ; its  nights  were  lurid  with 
flames  licking  the  last  poor  shelter  from  above  the  heads 
of  subjugated  wives  and  children. 

Its  history  is  the  strongest  human  argument  for  an 
orthodox  hell. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


389 


TESTIMONIALS. 


State  of  Georgia, 

Executive  Office, 
Atlanta,  September  l9t,  1894. 

“Life  in  Dixie  During  the  War,”  by  Miss  Mary  A.  H.  Gay, 
presents  a striking  picture  of  home  life  among  our  people  during 
that  dark  period  of  our  history. 

While  such  presentation  is  hardly  looked  for  in  more  elabor- 
ate history  of  those  times,  Miss  Gay’s  conception  was  a wise  one, 
and  the  record  she  has  given  will  preserve  a most  desirable  part  of 
the  history  of  our  section. 

Her  book  deserves  to  be  widely  circulated. 

W.  J.  Northen, 

Governor. 


“LIFE  IN  DIXIE  DURING  THE  WAR.” 

This  handsome  volume  from  the  pen  of  Miss  Mary  A.  H.  Gay, 
whose  many  acts  of  self-denial  entitle  her  to  the  name  of  phil- 
anthropist, will  meet  with  a hearty  welcome  from  her  wide  circle 
of  friends.  But  a casual  glance  at  the  volume  leads  us  to  con- 
clude that  outside  of  this  circle,  even  with  the  reader  who  will  look 
into  it  as  a key  to  the  history  of  the  “times  that  tried  men’s 
souls,”  it  will  be-  a book  of  more  than  passing  interest.  The 
author  writes  with  the  feelings  of  a partisan,  but  time  has  mel- 
lowed her  recollections  of  these  stormy  times,  and  even  the  reader 
whose  sympathies  were  with  the  other  side  will  agree  with  Joel 
Chandler  Harris  in  his  introduction  to  the  book.  In  its  mechani- 
cal get-up,  the  book  is  a gem. — Atlanta  Constitution , December 
18,  1892. 


390 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


“LIFE  IN  DIXIE.” 

Miss  Mary  A.  H.  Gay  has  published  a-  volume  entitled  “Life 
in  Dixie  During  the  War,”  which  should  be  in  every  Southern 
home.  It  is  one  of  the  truest  pictures  of  the  life  of  our  people 
during  the  war  that  has  yet  been  drawn.  In  fact,  it  could  not 
be  better,  for  it  shows  things  just  as  they  were.  The  struggles 
and  sufferings  of  the  Southern  people  during  that  awful  period 
exhibited  a heroism  that  has  seldom  been  macehed  in  the  world’s 
history.  Miss  Gay  was  among  them.  She  looked  on  their  trials 
with  sympathetic  eyes  and  suffered  with  them.  Fortunately  she 
is  gifted  with  the  power  of  describing  what  she  saw,  and  her 
book  will  be  a classic  of  war  literature.  Its  every  page  is  inter- 
esting. The  story  of  Dixie  during  the  war  reads  like  romance  to 
the  generation  that  has  arisen  since,  but  it  should  have  for  gen- 
erations an  interest  as  deep  as  that  with  which  it  is  read  by  those 
who  lived  and  acted  amid  the  scenes  it  records.  It  shows  how 
grand  was  the  courage  and  virtue,  how  sublime  the  faith  and  en- 
durance of  the  men  and  women  of  the  South  throughout  that  ter- 
rible ordeal.  It  is  a book  that  will  live,  and  one  that  will  give  to 
the  world  a true  representation  of  the  conduct  of  a noble  people 
in  affliction.  Miss  Gay  has  made  numerous  contributions  to  our 
literature  which  mark  her  as  a woman  of  rare  capacity  and  ex- 
quisite feelings,  but  she  has  done  no  work  that  is  worthier  of 
gratitude  and  praise  than  that  embodied  in  “Life  in  Dixie.” — 
The  Atlanta  Journal,  January  17,  1893. 

“LIFE  IN  DIXIE.” 

Miss  Mary  Gay’s  recent  book,  “Life  in  Dixie  During  the  War,” 
is  rapidly  winning  favor  with  the  public.  Some  of  our  most  dis- 
tinguished writers  speak  of  it  in  very  high  terms  as  a notable 
contribution  to  our  history.  The  Rev.  Dr.  J.  William  Jones  says 
of  it: 

“ ‘Life  in  Dixie  During  the  War’  is  a charming  story  of  home- 
life  during  those  dark  days  when  our  noble  women  displayed  a 
patient  endurance,  and  active  zeal,  a self-denying  work  in  the 
hospitals,  a genuine  patriotism,  a true  heroism  which  equalled 
the  record  of  their  fathers,  husbands,  sons  and  brothers  in  the 
army. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


391 


“But  Decatur,  near  Atlanta,  was  the  scene  of  stirring  events 
during  Sherman’s  campaign  against  the  doomed  city,  and  Miss 
Gay’s  facile  pen  vividly  portrays  historic  events  of  deepest  in- 
terest. 

‘‘Visits  from  the  soldier  boy  to  the  old  home,  letters  from  the 
camp,  visits  -to  the  camps  and  hospitals,  the  smoke  and  changing 
scenes  of  battle  in  the  enemy’s  lines,  refugeeing,  and  many  other 
events  of  those  stirring  days,  are  told  with  the  vividness  of  an 
eye-witness  and  the  pen  of  an  accomplished  writer. 

“It  is,  in  a word,  a vivid  and  true  picture  of  ‘Life  in  Dixie 
During  the  War,’  and  should  find  a place  not  only  in  our 
Southern  homes,  but  in  the  homes  of  all  who  desire  to  see  a true 
account  of  the  life  of  our  noble  women  during  those  trying  days. 

“Rev.  John  William  Jones.” 

The  Constitution,  May  2nd,  1893. 


The  “Confederate  Love  Song,”  by  Miss  Mary  A.  H.  Gay,  of 
Decatur,  was  written  during  the  late  war.  It  is  a charming  bit 
of  verse,  and  forms  one  of  a galaxy  of  beautiful  songs  from  the 
same  true  pen.  In  1880,  Miss  Gay  published  a volume  of  verses 
which  received  the  unusual  compliment  of  public  demand  for  no 
less  than  eleven  editions.  The  author’s  life  is  one  ot  the  most 
beautiful;  it  is,  therefore,  quite  natural  that  her  poetry  should 
partake  of  the  simple  truth  and  sincerity  of  that  life,  consecrated 
as  it  is,  and  ever  has  been,  to  the  noblest  work. — Atlanta  Consti- 
tution. 


Miss  Gay’s  Book,  “Life  in  Dixie  During  the  War.” — Editor 
“Sunny  South:”  Permit  me  to  say  a few  words  through  the  col- 
umns of  your  widely  read  and  popular  paper  about  Miss  Mary 
A.  H.  Gay’s  “Life  in  Dixie  During  the  War,”  the  second  and 
enlarged  edition  of  which  hook  has  just  been  issued  from  the 
press. 

The  fact  that  a second  and  enlarged  edition  has  been  called 
for  is  proof  that  the  merits  of  this  genuine  Southern  story  has 
been  appreciated  by  our  people.  Not  only  has  the  author  in  her 
book  perpetuated  interesting  and  historically  valuable  material 
of  merely  local  character,  but,  to  the  careful  reader,  she  also 


392 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


presents  matter  that  goes  to  the  deep  moral,  social  and  political 
roots  of  the  cause  of  the  people  of  the  South,  that  grew  and 
flowered  into  the  crimson  rose  of  war,  which  the  South  plucked 
and  wore  upon  her  heart  during  four  of  the  most  tragic  yet  glo- 
rious years  recorded  in  history. 

But  the  chief  charms  of  the  book  are  its  simple,  earnest, 
homely  style,  its  depth  of  womanly  and  loyal  feeling,  and  the 
glimpses  we  get  of  the  homes  and  hearts  of  our  people  during 
these  years  of  patient  suffering  and  “crucifixion  of  the  soul;” 
and  along  with  the  passion  and  the  pain,  we  are  presented  with 
pictures  of  our  people’s  frequently  laughable  “make-shifts”  to 
supply  many  of  the  common  necessaries  of  life  and  household 
appliances  of  which  the  stress  and  savage  devastation  deprived 
nearly  every  Southern  family.  Above  all  we  are  impressed  by  the 
more  than  Spartan  heroism,  the  tender  love,  the  unwavering 
loyalty,  the  devoted,  self-sacrificing  spirit  of  our  noble  Southern 
womanhood,  of  which  this  book  speaks  so  eloquently  in  its  naive 
simplicity,  and  of  which  traits  of  character,  the  modest  author 
herself  is  a living  and  universally  beloved  example. 

The  book  deserves  a place  in  the  hearts  and  homes  of  our 
people.  Surely  the  patriotic  motives  that  inspired  its  author 
to  write  it  is  the  only  passport  it  needs  to  public  favor  and  pat- 
ronage. 

Charles  W.  Hubner, 

“Sunny  South,”  Atlanta,  Ga.,  November  3,  1894. 


A WAR  STORY. 

Even  in  these  piping  times  of  peace  ( peace  as  far  as  our  own 
borders  are  concerned,  at  any  rate) — there  is  a relish  in  a war 
story.  And  when  the  scene  is  laid  right  here  in  Georgia,  in 
Decatur,  in  Atlanta;  when  familiar  names  come  up  in  the  course 
of  the  narrative,  and  familiar  events  are  pictured  by  an 
honest  eyewitness;  when  all  through  the  little  volume  you  feel 
the  truthfulness  of  the  writer,  and  know  that  the  incidents  she 
narrates  happened  just  so;  when,  too,  you  see  the  writer  herself — 
see  her  to  be  an  old  lauy  now,  who  really  was  a heroine  in  her 
young  days;  and  then  read  the  simple,  personal  narrative — now 
stirring,  as  the  battle-guns  sound — now  touching,  as  some  dear 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


393 


one  falls ; with  all  this  combination  of  interest,  a war  story 
claims  and  holds  the  attention. 

Such  is  the  little  book,  called  “Life  in  Dixie,”  written  by  Miss 
Mary  Gay,  and  telling  of  those  stirring  times  in  and  about  At- 
lanta, back  yonder  in  the  sixties. 

There  are  some  vivid  pictures  in  that  modest  little  volume, 
as  well  as  some  interesting  facts.  Miss  Gay  was  in  the  thick  of 
the  strife,  and  tells  what  she  saw  in  those  dark  days. 

Among  the  well-known  characters,  associated  with  the  re- 
corded events,  we  find  Mrs.  L.  P.  Grant,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Posey  Mad- 
dox, Dr.  J.  P.  Logan  and  many  others.  ; 

A most  interesting  fact  disclosed  in  those  pages  is  the  sur- 
prising one  that  two  sisters  of  Mrs.  Abraham  Lincoln  married 
Alabama  officers  in  the  Confederate  army;  there  is  recorded  the 
public  presentation,  by  those  two  ladies,  of  an  elegant  silk  ban- 
ner made  for  a gallant  young  company  in  Georgia’s  daughter- 
State.  Thus  conspicious  were  those  women  in  the  Southern 
Confederacy,  while  their  sister  and  her  dearest  interests  lay 
on  the  other  side. 

Another  matter  of  history  which  will  be  interesting  to  the 
present  generation  of  readers,  however  much  we  may  have  read 
of  the  mammoth  prices  for  the  necessaries  of  life  in  those  hard 
days,  is  the  following  list  of  articles,  with  the  cost  thereof  in 
Confederate  money,  bought  by  Miss  Gay,  after  a ride  of  forty 
miles  to  obtain  them: 

One  bushel  of  meal,  $10.00;  four  bushels  of  corn,  $40.00; 
fifteen  pounds  of  flour,  $7.50;  four  pounds  of  dried  apples,  $5.00; 
one  and  a half  pounds  of  butter,  $6.00;  a bushel  of  sweet  pota- 
toes, $6.00;  three  gallons  of  syrup,  $15.00;  for  shoeing  the  horse, 
$25.00;  for  a night's  lodging  for  self  and  horse,  at  Mrs.  Born’s, 
$10.00. 

Then,  the  vehicle  in  which  the  trip  for . these  supplies  was 
made! 

It  was  contrived  by  “Uncle  Mack,”  a dusky  hero  of  those 
times.  “It  was  a something  he  had  improvised  which  baffled  de- 
scription,” writes  Miss  Gay,  “and  which,  for  the  sake  of  the 
faithful  service  I obtained  from  it,  I will  not  attempt  to  de- 
scribe. Suffice  it  to  say  that  it  carried  living  freight  over  many 
a bridge;  and  in  honor  of  this,  I will  call  it  a wagon.” 


394 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


The  horse,  'which  the  author  herself  captured  to  draw  this 
remarkable  vehicle,  was  equally  remarkable,  and  his  subsequent 
history  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  bits  of  narrative  in  the 
book.  I wish  I could  give  it  all  in  Miss  Gay’s  own  words,  but 
my  space  does  not  admit  of  that. 

But  there  is  not  a child  in  your  household  who  would  not  he 
interested  in  the  account  of  how  the  poor  starved  horse  was  las- 
soed and  secured — how  he  was  fed  and  strengthened,  and  eared 
for,  and  finally  harnessed  up  with  ropes  and  pieces  of  crocus 
sacks;  how  the  letters,  “U.  S.”  were  found  branded  on  each  of 
his  sides,  causing  his  mistress  to  name  him  “Yankee”;  how  she 
grew  to  love  him  so  that  she  deemed  that  name  ill-fitting,  and 
decided  to  re-christen  him  “Johnnie  Reb.,”  which  she  did  one  day 
with  effective  ceremonial  by  a brook-side;  how  he  rendered  in- 
valuable service  to  his  mistress  many  and  many  a time,  and  was 
a treasured  member  of  the  little  family  that  passed  such  stormy 
times  in  the  war-stricken  village  of  Decatur;  all  this  is  worth 
reading,  told,  as  it  is,  with  a gentle  humor,  and  a strict  truth- 
fulness which  is  the  chief  charm  of  that  historic  picture.  For  it 
is  historic.  And  it  were  well  for  the  rising  generations  to  read 
its  vivid  portrayals  of  that  period. 

And  though  Miss  Gay  was  evidently  an  ardent  secessionist, 
and  is  now,  I fancy,  one  of  the  altogether  unreconstructed  few, 
her  hook  contains  records  of  more  than  one  kindness  received  at 
the  hands  of  officers  of  the  United  States  army — kindness  prof- 
fered, too,  in  the  face  of  her  fearless  avowal  of  opinion. 

Some  parts  of  the  book  (I  will  add,  if  the  gentle  author  will 
allow  me)  seem  somewhat  too  bitter  towards  our  brethren  of  the 
North.  But  this  criticism  is  from  the  standpoint  of  one  who 
knew  not  the  horrors  of  that  dreadful  war. ' If  I had  seen  the 
desolation  and  destruction  which  followed  it  in  the  wake  of  Sher- 
man’s army,  as  Miss  Gay  saw  it  and  suffered  by  it  (through 
mother  and  brother  and  friends,  as  well  as  through  personal 
privation),- — if  I had  thus  suffered,  doubtless  I,  too,  would  be 
unable  to  look  impartially  upon  these  Federal  leaders  and  their 
actuating  motives — unable  to  see  that,  though  Sherman  was  a 
most  unmerciful  conqueror,  he  was  not  altogether  a fiend. 

But  there  is  only  a touch  of  this  severe  judgment  in  Miss 
Gay’s  little  book.  The  greater  portion  of  it  is  simply  historic — 


DURING  THE  WAB. 


395 


a faithful  chronicling  of  events  experienced  by  the  writer  herself, 
who  was  a veritable  heroine  in  those  days  of  horrors. 

Miss  Gay  is  to  be  congratulated  upon  the  fact  that  ‘‘Life  in 
Dixie’"'  is  entering  upon  its  second  edition.  Let  me  suggest  that 
you  get  it  for  your  children,  you  parents.  The  rising  generation 
should  learn  of  the  stirring  events  which  happened  right  here  in 
Atlanta  thirty  years  ago. 

The  story  will  hold  their  attention  and  interest  throughout — 
the  soldier-brother  who  fell  in  the  strife,  the  faithful  black 
Toby  sketched  so  tenderly,  the  perilous  trip  of  Miss  Gay  herself, 
as  she  carried  the  blankets  and  overcoats  through  the  enemy’s 
ranks  to  the  boys  in  gray — all  this  will  vastly  entertain  those 
young  folks,  at  the  same  time  it  teaches  them  of  the  Battle  of 
Atlanta,  and  the  concurrent  events. — Emel  Jay,  in  The  Atlcmta, 
Journal,  November  24th,  1894A 


“Life  in  Dixie  During  the  War”  is  the  title  of  a volume  just 
perused  which  transcends  in  interest,  truth  and  beauty  all  the 
historical  tomes  and  garlanded  fiction  to  which  that  epoch  has 
given  birth.  It  embraces  the  personal  experiences  and  observa- 
tions of  a woman,  gifted  far  beyond  the  ordinary,  who  came  in 
contact  with  the  sadness,  the  bloodshed  and  the  misery  of  the 
unhappy  struggle.  A loved  brother  laid  down  his  life  on  the 
bloodiest  battle-field,  friends  parted  and  vanished  from  her,  and 
wealth  was  swallowed  in  the  maw  of  destruction. 

She  tells  her  story — for  story  it  is — with  an  exquisite  grace, 
and  with  a woman’s  tenderness  and  sympathy  for  the  people  she 
loved  and  the  cause  she  adored.  Her  language  is  lofty  upon  oc- 
casion, her  memories  perhaps  too  keen,  her  gentleness  possibly 
too  exclusive  to  her  own,  but  her  work  is  done  with  a fidelity 
and  consistency  beyond  comparison.  The  scene  is  Decatur,  Ga., 
but  threads,  visible  or  invisible,  reach  to  every  hamlet  and  en- 
twine every  heart  in  the  evanished  Confederacy.  The  heroism 
of  men,  the  daring  of  boys,  the  endurance  of  women,  alike  are 
painted  with  a skill  that  requires  no  color. 

Those  who  wish  to  embalm  their  recollections  of  home-life 
during  the  war,  and  those  who  desire  to  know  what  it  was, 

*“  Emel  Jay  ” is  Miss  Mary  L.  Jackson,  daughter  of  the  late  Hon.  James 
Jackson,  Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Georgia. 


396 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


should  read  this  book.  It  is  one  of  the  records  of  the  past  that 
should  be  in  every  library.  It  is  beautifully  printed,  neatly 

cloth-bound,  and  contains  300  pages The  Tampa  Daily  Times, 

January  17,  1895. 


FROM  THE  OTHER  SIDE. 

A UNION  SOLDIER’S  TRIBUTE  TO  A SOUTHERN 
WOMAN’S  BOOK. 

“Evanston,  III.,  December  30th,  1895. 

“Mary  A.  H.  Gay. 

“Dear  Madam  : Allow  me  to  thank  you  for  giving  to  the 
world  inside  home  life  in  the  South  during  the  war.  All  histo- 
ries of  the  war  that  have  been  written  have  been  confined  to  bat- 
tles and  movements  of  armies,  which  are  so  likened  to  the  histo- 
ries of  other  wars  that  when  you  have  read  one  you  may  say  that 
you  have  read  them  all.  But  yours  gives  a local  and  romantic 
description  of  real  life,  and  I feel  like  congratulating  you  and 
calling  the  scenes  in  which  you  played  so  important  a part  the 
heyday  of  your  existence.  I take  it  you  were  the  daughter, 
pampered  and  cuddled  child,  of  rich  and  influential  people,  and 
had  it  not  been  for  the  war  you  would  have  been  raised  with 
much  pomp,  arrogance  and  importance  of  family,  which,  in  the 
very  nature  of  your  surroundings,  would  have  destroyed  all  the 
finer  and  nobler  traits  which  want  and  misery  have  developed 
into  a grand,  noble,  self-sacrificing  and  heroic  woman.  And  al- 
though you  portray  the  scenes  freighted  with  misery,  want  and 
desolation,  yet  they  were  halcyon  days  to  one  like  you,  romantic, 
energetic,  patriotic  and  self-sacrificing,  and  now,  as  you  are  pass- 
ing down  the  shady  lane  of  life,  you  live  in  the  memories  of  the 
past,  the  part  you  played  in  the  heroic  struggle,  and  the  noble 
womanhood  developed;  and  the  assurance  that  you  did  well 
your  part  in  the  great  tragedy  strews  roses  and  garlands  along 
the  path  of  your  declining  years. 

“I  follow  you  through  all  these  stirring  scenes;  I sit  beside 
you  in  your  hours  of  gloom  and  blighted  hopes;  I follow  you  be- 
side the  ox-cart  that  drew  its  freight  of  human  misery;  I walk 
with  you  into  the  woody  retreats  and  sit  beside  you  upon  the 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


397 


banks  of  the  limpid  stream  and  mis  my  tears  with  yours ; I 
tramp  with  you  over  the  scenes  of  desolation;  I sorrow  with  you 
over  the  death  of  Toby;  I mourn  with  you  over  the  sudden  death 
of  neble  Thomie;  I sit  beside  the  death-bed  of  your  sainted 
mother  and  mingle  my  tears  with  yours;  I gladly  accompany 
you  on  your  weary  tramp  with  your  much-loved  ‘Yankee’  or 
Johnnie  Reb;  I gather  with  you  the  leaden  missiles  of  death  to 
buy  food  for  starving  friends  and  fellow-sufferers;  I pass  with 
you  through  all  the  scenes  that  are  freighted  with  hope,  love, 
despair  and  expectation;  I am  your  friend  and  sympathizer  in 
all  your  misfortunes,  and  yet  I am  one  of  those  ‘accursed’  Yankee 
soldiers  who  have  been  the  bane  of  your  life. 

“The  strange  blending  of  pathos  and  diplomacy  on  pages  91 
and  92  may  be  said  to  be  amusingly  expressive.  Chapter  13  is 
intensely  interesting,  dramatic  and  romantic;  still  I see  no  reason 
that  I should  speak  of  these  isolated  passages,  for  the  whole  book 
is  equally  interesting,  and  would  foreshadow  for  it  a.  large  sale 
in  the  North  if  properly  handled.  As  to  the  mechanical  construc- 
tion of  the  book,  I am  much  pleased  with  your  language,  as  it  is 
free  from  Carlylism  and  ostentatious  English,  which  mars  so 
much  of  the  writings  of  many  of  our  modern  authors.  I hold 
that  when  a book  is  overloaded  with  this  disgusting  use  of  the 
dictionary  it  is  what  Goldsmith  terms  ‘display  of  book  learned 
skill.’ 

“The  book  was  kindly  sent  me  by  a lady  friend  in  Atlanta, 
Mrs.  Delbridge,  and  1 hope  when  I visit  Atlanta  again  I may 
have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  the  authoress  that  nature  has  en- 
dowed with  such  wonderful  powers  of  description.” 

Most  respectfully, 

Chakles  Aikin. 

Published  in  The  Atlanta  Constitution  January  5th,  1896. 


“LIFE  IN  DIXIE  DURING  THE  WAR, 

is  the  title  of  one  of  the  best  series  of  sketches  that  has  been 
writen  about  the  ‘late  unpleasantness.’  It  contains  the  record 
of  one  woman’s  experience  during  the  five  years  of  warfare  be- 
tween the  North  and  the  South.  The  author.  Miss  Mary  A.  H. 
Gay,  of  Decatur,  Georgia,  one  of  the  most  graceful  writers  in  the 


398 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


South,  has  handled  the  subject  in  a masterful  manner.  ‘Truth 
is  stranger  than  fiction,’  and  the  work  abounds  in  truth.  The 
volume  ought  to  be  on  sale  at  every  news-stand  in  the  South.  The 
book  has  been  described  as  containing  ‘a  living,  picture  of  those 
trying  times — not  to  stir  up  bitter  feelings  and  hatred,  but  a 
history,  and  such  history  as  can  not  be  obtained  in  any  other 
form.’  Miss  Gay  was  in  the  thick  of  the  strife,  ‘and  in  a modest 
way  shows  herself  a heroine  worthy  of  any  romance.’  Her  pen 
describes  scenes  that  bring  tears  for  the  pain  and  suffering,  and 
laughter  at  the  ‘makeshifts’  resorted  to  by  those  noble  people  in 
the  hour  of  actual  need.  ‘Some  parts  of  the  narrative  may  be 
judged  as  rather  bitter  towards  the  enemy  by  those  who  know 
not  the  horrors  of  that  war.  But  let  such  critics  put  themselves 
in  the  wake  of  Sherman’s  army  and  suffer  as  the  writer,  and 
they  will  feel  more  charitable  towards  her  who,  in  recalling  those 
experiences,  finds  it  hard  to  love  all  her  enemies.  There  is  only 
a touch  of  this  old-time  bitterness,  however;  most  of  the  book 
is  simply  historic,  and  Miss  Gay  does  not  hesitate  to  record 
many  kindnesses  received  at  the  hands  of  Federal  officers.’  Such 
a valuable  contribution  to  the  history  of  the  war  should  be 
prized.  It  is  a vivid  chronicle,  and  the  rising  generation  should 
learn  of  those  stirring  events.  They  will  read  with  unflagging 
interest  to  the  end  of  the  narrative.  We  wish  for  it  a wide 
circulation.” — The  Arkansas  Gazette,  March  10th,  1896. 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE  DURING  THE  WAR. 

BY  MARY  A.  H.  GAY,  DECATUR,  GA. 

We  endorse  most  heartily  the  praise  bestowed  on  this  modest 
volume  by  the  general  press.  Within  the  same  scope  we  do  not 
believe  a truer  or  more  sympathetic  picture  of  the  ghastly  war 
time  has  ever  been  written.  It  is  not  fiction,  but  a faithful 
presentation  of  one  woman’s  experience  during  the  five  years 
that  bounded  the  war  between  the  States. 

The  writer  was  in  the  very  thick  of  the  strife,  and  while  with 
admirable  modesty  she  has  endeavored  to  keep  herself  out  of 
her  book,  it  is  clear  that  she  was  one  of  the  heroic  and  indefat- 
igable women  who  brought  into  scenes  of  suffering  the  ministry  of 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


399 


tenderness.  The  recital  of  events  as  they  were,  brings  humor 
into  the  book,  whose  tenor  in  the  main,  however,  is  necessarily 
sad. 

By  those  to  whom  the  war  is  simply  a tale  that  is  told,  there 
are  parts  of  the  book  in  which  the  writer  will  be  accused  of  undue 
bitterness.  However,  no  such  critics,  we  think,  will  be  found 
among  the  people  to  whom  the  war  was  a reality.  Miss  Gay 
records,  without  hesitation,  many  kindnesses  received  at  the 
hands  of  the  Federal  officers. 

Texas  soldiers  of  Granbury’s  brigade,  Cleburne’s  division,  and 
Hood’s  corps,  figure  conspicuously  and  by  name  in  the  book.  Miss 
Gay  visited  Hood’s  headquarters  twice  while  the  brigade  was 
encamped  in  Georgia,  the  last  time  just  before  they  left  Georgia 
for  the  fatal  march  into  Tennessee.  The  night-scene  she  de- 
scribes near  Jonesboro,  where  they  were  encamped,  is  most 
graphic  and  pathetic.  Miss  Gay  is  the  woman  who  collected 
the  money  to  have  the  soldiers  who  fell  at  Franklin,  Tennessee, 
reburied,  when  she  heard  that  the  owners  of  the  battlefield  said 
their  graves  should  be  ploughed  over.  She  collected  $7,000,  and 
her  name  is  engraved  on  the  silver  plate  on  the  entrance  gate  at 
the  McGavoek  cemetery,  which  she  so  largely  helped  to  build. — 
The  Richmond  Times , February  16th,  1896. 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE  DURING  THE  WAR. 

The  following  deserved  complimentary  notice  of  the  book, 
“Life  in  Dixie  During  the  War,”  written  by  Miss  Mary  A.  H. 
Gay,  of  Georgia,  we  clip  from  the  New  York  Times:  “Joel 
Chandler  Harris’  brief  introduction  to  Miss  Gay’s  reminiscences 
of  the  civil  war  tells  of  the  authenticity  of  this  simple  story,  and 
how  a book  of  this  character  is  of  that  kind  from  whence  ‘history 
will  get  its  supplies.’  The  dark  days  are  described  with  absolute 
fidelity,  and  this  is  a quality  we  may  look  for  in  vain  ‘in  more 
elaborate  and  ambitious  publications.’  Think  of  the  strangeness 
of  things,  the  breaks  in  families,  when  the  author  tells  how,  at 
the  presentation  of  a flag,  the  banner  was  made  for  a company 
of  Confederate  soldiers  by  Miss  Ella  Todd  and  Mrs.  White,  of 
Lexington,  Kentucky,  the  sisters  of  Mrs.  Abraham  Lincoln,  the 
wife  of  the  great  President. 


400 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


It  was  in  and  around  Decatur,  Georgia,  where  the  author 
now  lives,  that,  in  the  storm  and  heat  of  the  war,  heroically  and 
unflinchingly  the  women  of  the  South  did  their  duty  in  helping 
those  in  the  field.  You  will  find  no  incidents  of  the  war  which 
do  not  show  the  colored  man  in  the  South  at  his  best.  Miss  Gay 
describes  their  devotion  and  what  true  friends  they  were.  The 
author  tells  how  more  than  once  she  was  near  starvation.  It 
happened  that  the  house  in  which  she  lived  became  the  head- 
quarters of  a troop  of  United  States  Cavalry.  Very  possibly 
bureau  drawers  became  convenient  feed  troughs  for  horses.  After 
the  cavalry  Jiad  left  there  was  not  a morsel  to  eat.  The  fam- 
ished children,  white  and  black,  were  crying  for  food.  The  day 
was  spent  by  the  women  picking  up  grains  of  corn  from  the 
cracks  and  crevices  in  bureau  drawers,  and  other  improvised 
troughs  for  Federal  horses.  In  this  way,  by  diligent  and  per- 
severing work,  about  a half  bushel  of  corn  was  obtained.  The 
corn,  having  been  thoroughly  washed  and  dried,  was  taken  to  a 
small  mill  and  coarsely  ground,  and  served  to  give  the  hungry 
ones  their  bread.  The  utter  destitution  of  the  people  after  the 
fall  of  Atlanta  is  shown  in  this  way:  Lead  was  in  demand, 
and  on  the  battlefields  around  Atlanta  it  could  be  picked  up, 
pellet  by  pellet.  Delicately  nurtured  women  dug  up  the  spent 
minie  balls  from  the  frozen  clods  and  exchanged  them  for  bread. 
— -The  Mechanicsburg,  Pa.,  Free  Press,  February  20th,  1896. 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE  DURING  THE  WAR. 

BY  MARY  A.  H.  GAY,  DECATUR,  GA. 

Of  the  numerous  stories  which  have  had  as  their  basis  the 
war  between  the  States,  there  are  few  truer  pictures,  in  our  opin- 
ion, than  that  presented  by  a Southern  woman  in  this  volume, 
with  a telling  preface  by  Joel  Chandler  Harris.  The  writer’s 
home  was  in  Decatur,  but  the  stories  include  the  history  of  the 
entire  section,  and  give  much  very  interesting  information  rel- 
ative to  life  in  Atlanta,  particularly  during  the  war  era.  Miss 
Gay  was  in  the  very  heart  of  the  strife,  and  she  describes  with 
the  vigorous  pen  of  one  to  whom  the  matter  is  a vital  reality. — 
The  Southern  Churchman,  Richmond,  Va.,  March  12th,  1896. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


401 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE  DURING  THE  WAR. 

The  volume  written  and  published  by  Miss  Mary  A.  H.  Gay, 
of  Georgia,  entitled  "Life  in  Dixie  During  the  War,”  is  one  of  the 
few  books  in  the  flood  tide  of  literature  on  the  great  civil  con- 
flict that  many  will  read  with  interest,  because  it  is  a woman’s 
story  of  actual  life  in  Dixie  from  the  beginning  to  the  close  of  the 
great  conflict.  We  have  volumes  in  abundance  which  tell  of  the 
great  battles  of  the  war,  of  the  achievement  of  heroes  and  the 
sacrifices  which  attended  the  victories,  but  the  story  of  the  home- 
life  of  Southern  people  during  the  war  must  ever  be  of  absorbing 
interest  to  every  American.  They  are  our  people,  our  country- 
men, sharing  the  common  inheritance  of  heroism  in  all  the  con- 
flicts of  the  Republic,  and  that  part  of  the  history  of  the  war  of 
the  rebellion  that  is  least  understood  is  the  extraordinary  suffer- 
ings and  sacrifices  of  the  Southern  women,  who  heroically  aided 
their  fathers,  husbands,  sons  and  brothers  in  the  unequal  contest. 
Miss  Gay  gives  a plain  unvarnished  story  of  life  in  Georgia 
during  the  war,  and  of  the  many  sacrifices  to  which  the  families 
of  Southern  people  were  subjected.  One  of  the  noticeable  fea- 
tures of  this  story,  commencing  with  the  expression  of  confident 
hope  for  the  success  of  the  Confederacy  and  ending  in  the  star- 
less midnight  of  gloom  that  attended  the  surrender  of  Lee  and  his 
legions,  is  given  in  tbe  description  of  a presentation  of  a silken 
banner  to  the  Magnolia  Cadets  when  the  war  began.  The  banner 
was  prepared  and  finished  by  Mrs.  Dr.  WThite,  of  Lexington,  Ken- 
tucky, and  her  sister  Miss  Todd,  sisters  of  Mrs.  President  Lin- 
coln, and  they  were  presented  to  the  enthusiastic  audience  by 
Captain  Dawson,  who  subsequently  married  Miss  Todd. 

Miss  Gay’s  volume  is  full  of  interesting  incidents,  showing 
the  heroism  and  sublime  faith  and  endurance  of  the  women  of  the 
South  during  the  terrible  ordeal.  Like  all  Southern  women,  she 
was  intensely  devoted  to  the  Southern  Cause,  and  often  exposed 
herself  to  great  peril  to  serve  the  Confederacy.  More  than  once 
she  took  her  life  into  her  hand  to  aid  the  hopeless  cause  in 
which  the  Southern  armies  had  engaged.  It  was  principally  by 
her  efforts  that  money  was  raised  to  entomb  the  Confederates 
that  fell  at  the  bloody  battle  of  Franklin,  Tennessee.  Her  name 
is  engraved  on  a silver  plate  that  is  mounted  on  the  entrance  gate 
of  the  cemetery,  and  there  are  few  who  will  not  become  readers  of 


402 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


her  book.  It  is  in  every  way  interesting  to  people  both  North 
and  South,  and  should  have  a very  wide  circulation. — From  The 
Times,  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  May  27th,  1896. 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE  DURING  THE  WAR. 

Many  stories  of  the  late  war  have  been  written,  some  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  “Blue,”  and  some  from  the  “Grey,”  but  we 
doubt  whether  a truer  picture  of  real  war  times  in  the  South  has 
ever  been  depicted  than  the  one  found  in  this  modest  little  vol- 
ume. There  is  no  fiction  in  it,  but  it  is  the  record  of  one  woman’s 
experiences  during  the  war. 

Her  home  was  in  Decatur,  Georgia,  but  her  narrative  includes 
the  history  of  all  that  portion  of  country.  Very  few  persons  who 
did  not  live  in  that  section  know  or  remember  to  what  extent 
those  people  suffered.  And  we  would  commend  them  to  this  book 
- — -a  living  picture  of  those  trying  times — not  to  stir  up  bitter  feel- 
ings and  hatred,  but  because  it  is  history,  and  such  history  as  can 
not  be  obtained  in  any  other  form. 

Miss  Gay  was  in  the  thick  of  the  strife,  and  in  a modest  way 
she  shows  herself  a heroine  worthy  of  any  romance.  Her  pen 
describes  scenes  that  bring  tears  for  the  pain  ar.d  suffering,  and 
laughter  at  the  “makeshifts”  resorted  to  by  these  noble  people 
in  the  hour  of  actual  needs.  Some  parts  of  the  narrative  may  be 
regarded  as  rather  bitter  towards  the  enemy  by  those  who  know 
not  the  horrors  of  that  war.  But  let  such  critics  put  themselves 
in  the  wake  of  Sherman’s  army,  and  suffer  as  the  writer  did,  and 
we  think  they  will  feel  more  charitably  towards  her,  who,  in  re- 
calling those  experiences,  finds  it  hard  to  love  all  her  enemies. 
There  is  only  a touch  of  this  old  time  bitterness,  however;  most 
of  the  book  is  simply  historic,  and  Miss  Gay  does  not  hesitate  to 
record  many  kindnesses  received  at  the  hands  of  the  Federal 
officers.  Such  a valuable  contribution  to  the  history  of  the  war 
should  be  prized.  It  is  a vivid  chronicle  and  the  rising  generation 
should  learn  of  those  stirring  events.  They  will  read  with  un- 
flagging interest  to  the  end  of  the  narrative.  We  wish  for  it  a 
wide  circulation. — “The  Christian  Observer,”  Louisville,  Ken- 
tucky, May  8th,  1896. 


DURING  THE  WAR. 


403 


Commendatory  notices  have  also  appeared  in  “The  Hampton 
(Florida)  Advocate,”  “The  Decatur  Record ,”  “The  DeKalb  Coun- 
ty New  Era,”  “The  Wesleyan  Christian  Advocate,”  etc. 

The  following  letter  was  written  to  Mr.  C.  D.  Mitchell,  Secre- 
tary and  Treasurer  of  Chattanooga  Plow  Company,  Chattanooga, 
Tennessee : 

Cincinnati,  Ohio,  November  30,  1896. 

My  Deae  Mitchell — I have  read  Miss  Gay’s  book  on  “Life 
in  Dixie  During  the  War,”  and  thank  you  very  much  for  giving 
me  the  opportunity  for  reading  it.  I fancy  you  will  think  I am 
a good  deal  of  a “calf,”  but  I couldn’t  help  choking  up  a good 
many  times  as  I read  of  the  terrible  experience  of  the  poor  -wo- 
men and  children  and  helpless  aged  people  when  misfortune 
placed  them  in  the  path  of  the  armies  during  that  bloody  period, 
and  we  who  were  at  the  front  knew  but  little  of  the  misery  in 
the  wake  of  the  armies. 

I was  glad  to  see  that  Miss  Gay  speaks  kindly  of  our  command, 
and  that  we  afforded  protection  to  her  family  without  leaving  any 
harm  to  them  in  any  way. 

To-day  is  the  anniversary  of  the  death  of  her  brother,  killed 
in  front  of  our  works  at  Franklin.  When  I re  d of  his  death 
the  whole  bloody  scene  was  revived,  and  how  useless  and  fool- 
hardy that  charge  of  Cleburne’s  over  the  open  cotton  fields  at 
Franklin  upon  our  works.  The  dead  were  almost  countless,  and 
one  long  grave  was  dug  for  all.  I well  remember  this  immense 
trench  where  the  Confederates  were  laid  side  by  side.  I com- 
manded the  1st  Batallion  that  day  at  the  battle  of  Franklin,  and 
we  had  a very  warm  time  of  it.  We  retreated  on  Nashville  the 
following  day,  and  I was  cut  off  from  the  Regiment  for  a while, 
but  we  finally  made  a big  detour  and  regained  our  lines.  After 
the  battle  of  Nashville  we  occupied  the  Franklin  battlefield,  and 
I went  carefully  over  the  whole  field.  Hood’s  charge  upon  our 
Franklin  works,  if  successful,  would  have  been  a moderate  victory 
only,  but  unsuccessful  it  was  a most  terrible  loss  to  him. 

At  57  you  and  I look  at  things  rather  different  than  we  did 


404 


LIFE  IN  DIXIE 


in  our  youth  of  22,  and  while  scars  of  war  may  be  healed,  they 
are  nevertheless  not  forgotten.  With  kind  regards. 

Yours  very  truly, 

T.  F.  Allen. 

I think  General  Garrard  would  like  to  read  this  book,  if  he 
has  not  already  done  so,  and  if  you  approve  I will  send  it  up  to 
him  and  return  it  to  you  later.  At  this  season  of  the  year  he 
has  time  to  read.  T.  F.  A. 

A KENTUCKY  TRIBUTE  TO  A GEORGIA  BOOK. 

From  Atlanta  Constitution  of  July  21,  1899. 

To  those  who  have  heard  at  Confederate  reunions  and  else- 
where the  eloquent  address  of  Colonel  Bennett  H.  Young,  of 
Louisville,  Kentucky,  the  following  will  be  of  interest.  Colonel 
Young  is  a well-known  lawyer,  a brilliant  lecturer,  a brave  ex-Con- 
federate  and  a polished  gentlemen  of  literary  tastes  and  acquire- 
ments. The  following  testimonial  will  be  to  Georgia  lovers  of  the 
“Lost  Cause”  another  link  to  bind  their  hearts  to  the  eloquent 
Kentuckian  who  won  for  Louisville  the  honor  of  the  next  reunion: 
Miss  Mary  A.  E.  Gay,  Decatur,  Ga: 

My  Dear  Miss  Gay — I have  read  with  great  pleasure  and 
delight  your  book,  ‘Life  in  Dixie.’  It  recalls  with  vivid  correct- 
ness the  scenes  through  which  we  all  passed  during  the  great 
struggle;  it  awakens  the  tenderest  and  most  beautiful  emotions 
of  the  past  and  brings  out  in  strong  relief  the  trials  of  the  noble 
and  heroic  women  of  the  South  and  the  sufferings  and  sacrifices 
of  her  sons.  I know  of  no  book  on  the  subject  which  is  more 
beautiful  in  conception  or  truer  in  execution. 

Yours  truly, 

Bennett  H.  Young. 


973.782  G285 


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